


Don't Feed the Wolves

by Amazonia_8



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Feral Behavior, Feral Derek, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Mates, Minor Violence, Possessive Derek, Protective Stiles, References to Knotting, Rimming, Scent Marking, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazonia_8/pseuds/Amazonia_8
Summary: Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.Except, apparently, Stiles.Now he's got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.





	1. Chapter 1

The final nail in his coffin came when he rounded a bend, got himself tangled in a monstrous bush and came out the other side realizing he couldn’t see his jeep anymore. It was time to finally admit this had been a monumentally stupid idea. He should turn around right now, while he still had a chance of finding his way back, any further and he was in real danger of getting lost out here all night.

 Lost. In the dark. In werewolf territory.

He was a senior, he should've know better. Everyone knew Jackson Whittmore was an unwashed asshole, so Stiles couldn’t _believe_ he’d caved to that guy’s peer pressure bullshit. Something like this was bound to happen if he showed up at the guy’s house. But getting an invite to the party had been a miracle in the first place, and there had been a lot of something sweet and deadly finding its way down his throat in the beginning, enough to make him feel like he was safe. Like the fact that there were hundreds of his school mates packed into this house, lights down and music cranked, meant that Jackson would be too busy to notice Stiles’ wobbly baby foal attempt to chat up his girl.

He noticed. Stiles braced for a fist to the gut, but instead got an arm looped around his shoulder when he tried to slide away.

“We should send Little Red!” Jackson, reeking of sour-cheap beer, breathed right into his face.

Full moon out, and the jocks had been howling and jumping on the furniture all night and _why why why_ had he worn this stupid red hoodie?

But then Lydia was actually making eye contact with him while Jackson goaded him on, arching her brow as if Stiles might do something that could hold her attention for more time than it took to flip her perfect strawberry hair.

None of his excuses worked, and he should have just run out of there full tilt because there was nothing that sent up a red flag faster than Jackson in a good mood, acting _nice_. All the other jocks circled and cheered.

And of course Scott was nowhere to be found because, Allison.

So, predictably, cut to Stiles, in the middle of the night, stumbling through - _trespassing_ through - the very clearly marked border between the county of Beacon Hills and the Hale property with its “Do Not Enter: Werewolf Territory” signs everywhere, the black wolf head with red eyes on a yellow background staring at him as Stiles pulled his hood over his head and hurried on.

 He wondered how much farther the house was. Not too far, he imagined. When the Hales had lived there, they’d come into town now and then; some people liked to brag that they’d been friends with a few of them. But no one had ever been _on_ their land but the Sheriff and a few of his deputies because the town charter had always been very clear.

 Humans couldn’t expect any legal protection if they tried to cross the border.

 “That place has been abandoned for years, should be a piece of cake, right Stilinski?”

 “You fucking _do this_ man! You’ll be a legend! Stilin- _ski!_ Stilin- _ski!_ Stilin- _ski!_ ”

Right, Jackson, sure, no problem. Just walk up to the spooky abandoned mansion in the middle of the woods, pry off the door knocker as a trophy and make it back without getting murdered then eaten by the mutated zombie wolf rumored to be out here. Or was it a ghost wolf bent on vengeance? Whatever, point was, everybody knew you didn’t fucking go into these woods in the daylight with police backup which was why, of course, Stiles was out here alone in the dark with a flashlight that was slowly dying on him.

His heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of his chest. He smacked the side of the light and it flared for another few seconds before dimming again. The trees hoarded most of the natural the light, but it was bright enough under the full moon that he could see just  enough to know he was officially completely lost.

“Fuck.” Stiles cursed under his breath, quickening his pace because if he could still find the house, maybe he could find the remains of the road they used to use years ago.

He was not going to think about werewolves. He was not going to let his mind wander at every little rustle and snapping twig. There were a lot of other animals out here, it was a preserve for shit sake. Deer and racoons and….and….

He heard the growl before he saw the eyes. Red eyes, low to the ground and watching him from the trees.

Stiles ran.

And goddamnit, it was like he hadn’t spent huge chunks of time online researching every little thing he could find about werewolves. Hadn’t gone to all the websites, wolf and human, even the trashy ones that dealt in smut glazed rumor. Even porn. (Especially porn) And they all knew that rule number one was if a werewolf’s locked onto you….do not fucking run.

But he couldn’t help it, his heart was going to explode and the adrenaline just took over his body before his mind could object. He heard a howl behind him, chilling, gleeful. Careening through the trees, branches tearing at his clothes, snagging his hood until he lost his footing. The ground was covered in soft, dry leaves and they made so much fucking noise as he scrambled back to his feet and flew off deeper into the woods.

He could hear the wolf chasing, smell his own sweat and taste a drop of blood on his lip. The werewolf jumped out from his left and Stiles screamed, cutting right and somehow making it. He tore down a gully and up over a log and the wolf swiped at him from behind a tree. Stiles jerked back and veered through a space where the branches began to thin. Twice more he dodged just in time, lungs burning, legs numb. The thing behind him was yipping, grunting, but not catching up.

Stiles almost stumbled in surprise. It definitely should have caught him by now, werewolves were faster, stronger. Alphas doubly so, and red eyes meant this thing was an Alpha.

It was playing with him.

Stiles slowed his pace just a little, unable to help himself from turning to look. And that’s when it pounced.

The two bodies went down in graceless barrel rolls before Stiles found himself pinned by a heavy mass, clawed hands holding down his wrists and knees bracketing his hips in place. Instinctively he turned his head, squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to actually see the teeth when they sank into his throat.

But nothing happened. And Stiles opened one eye to figure out why.

He was prepared for the sight of a Beta shifted face, in fact, he was grateful for it because he would have been seriously shit out of luck if this thing was in its Alpha form. What he wasn’t expecting was for the guy to scent him quickly in the neck, roll off his body and then shift back into human, still squatting on all fours two feet away.

Mostly human, he still had the teeth and the claws, but his eyes were some kind of pale hybrid color he couldn’t quite pick out and Stiles was struck dumb by the discovery that the man was seriously, reality-alteringly gorgeous.

And naked.

Gorgeous and naked and _huge_.

Streaked in dirt, sweat matting the hair on his chest and thighs, boulder-thick muscles rolling under his skin as he shifted left and right, watching Stiles with something more akin to curiosity than aggression. Which was a blessing because even curled on his haunches Stiles could tell the man would dwarf him if he unfolded to his full height.

A true Alpha wolf.

God, if he had an ounce of sense he would be backing away slowly. But he couldn’t seem to move, because, _holy shit_ when was he ever going to get a chance to be this close to a real, live half-shifted werewolf again, especially one so scorchingly hot, even with the fangs?

Who was he kidding, Stiles had beaten off to stuff like this for years. He might concede he was bi in general, but when it came to the werewolf population, his dick was gay as hell. So this situation was sending his body more than a few mixed signals.

“Hey buddy,” Stiles tried for the soft lilt used with animals or small children. Werewolves were still people, just people deluxe as he liked to call them, but it _was_ a full moon out and there was no telling in a situation like this if the guy might be feral or not. “I just...I made a mistake and got lost and I promise I’ll turn right back around and leave and you’ll never see me here again. I swear. I would just really, really appreciate it if none of my body parts found their way through your digestive tract.”

The werewolf huffed out through his nose, turned in a circle and scented the air, then dropped his gaze back to Stiles.

“Can you….understand me big guy?”

And because his father was right that he didn’t have the sense God gave a grapefruit, Stiles extended a hand. He knew scent was important to wolves and he hoped his communicated that he wasn’t a threat. The wolf let him get close, close enough that Stiles’ fingers could feel the heat pouring off the man’s skin. They sat there, suspended, Stiles with his arm outstretched, just barely a foot from the werewolf’s shoulder, while the guy stared flatly at him.

Nothing happened. His hand remained attached to his arm.

Feeling bolder, or suicidal depending on who you asked, Stiles stretched his fingers, just a little, and closed the distance. He barely got a chance to register the rasp of stubble on the man’s cheek because the moment their skin connected, he found himself knocked on his back again.

“Whoa whoa hey!”

The man’s face buried itself in Stiles’ neck and began huffing lungfuls of his scent, running his nose all over, trying to burrow into the collar of the hoodie and getting frustrated at the hindrance. Well, feral or not, the guy knew how to work a zipper, that was for sure. Not ripped off, but dragged delicately down to Stiles’ belly between two razor edged claws, so carefully deliberate it made Stiles mouth dry and his heart fall off tempo. Peeling back the fabric, diving in, Stiles squirmed and gasped beneath him. He might have been terrified for his own life only seconds ago, but the moment the wolf began licking at him, long, savoring swipes of his tongue up and down Stiles’ neck, over his collarbones and along his jaw, he was done for. His head fell back into the dirt.

“Oh _god_!”

Blood pooled in his groin, filling his aching cock. The wolf pulled back, sniffed around him then grumbled in approval. Oh god that’s right, he could _smell_ how excited Stiles just became. And _liked_ it. There wasn’t enough memory left in his kink drive for all the shit he was saving for later.

“I’ve gotta be hallucinating right now. Or maybe you already killed me and this is my brain’s way of dealing with the shock.”

Two strong, claw tipped hands encircled his hips and yanked Stiles’ lower half up so that his groin was lifted right up into the guy’s face. The werewolf breathed him in, rubbing his cheeks over the hard line of Stiles’ erection until he thought he would burst, arms flailing out uselessly, trying to find something to hold.

“Oh hey, wait! I don’t know what you--”

The distinctive sound of his jeans being torn open at the waistband was jarring in the open-air hush of the woods. His fear flashed back instantly and it all came crashing down on him that he had no earthly way of protecting himself from this creature.

The were had managed to shred his pants and boxers enough that he could shove them down to Stiles’ ankles, but the moment Stiles began to panic, he stopped, looked up at him again with that strangely curious expression and whined. He lowered Stiles hips back to the ground and crept back a few paces, scenting the air. He stayed there, just beyond reach while Stiles stared at the forest ceiling and caught his breath, eventually turning to look at the werewolf when his whimpering grew fractionally louder. He looked confused and…..contrite? Could that term even be applied to a feral Alpha? His heartbeat calmed. On instinct, Stiles stretched out his arm along the carpet of leaves and earth, uncoiled his fingers to brush at the bolt of one broad knuckle. Dipping his head, the werewolf scented carefully at Stiles’ hand, head snaking as he gradually followed the trail up his arm until he’d slunk his way back to Stiles’ side. As Stiles lay there watching, fascinated, the man began to gently nuzzle at the exposed skin of Stiles’ belly, running his nose and lips along the heated flesh so softly that Stiles began to relax even more, all while listening to those soft, pained whines that deflated the last of Stiles’ fear. When the werewolf shifted up to his neck, nosing behind his ear and under his jaw, quiet, panting whimpers batting against him in warm breath, the arousal that had abated some came bleeding back. And when Stiles felt teeth at his neck, just enough pressure to dent the skin, he groaned and went limp, acknowledging somewhere that if he made it through this he and his sexual response center were going to have a serious talk.

 The wolf rumbled, the vibrations going straight through his teeth and into Stiles’ body, like hot needles plunging deep, expelling liquor and opiates, overriding his system. Stiles moaned and arched, rubbing his cock into the man’s trim stomach, the dark whorls of hair along his unfairly perfect set of abs scritching and gripping his shaft so good. With his mouth still latched around the joint of Stiles’ neck, the werewolf shook him once by the teeth, a shiver of movement only just hard enough to feel possessive.

Then the man released him abruptly, sat up on his knees and hoisted Stiles’ hips straight up into the air at inhuman speed. Stiles’ knees folded into his chest, legs dangling awkwardly, the bunched up fabric of his pants hitting him in the face. The werewolf held him practically upside down like he weighed nothing, his ass completely exposed, and he didn’t even get a chance to fill his lungs with air before there was a long, hot tongue dragging up the cleft of his ass, circling the rim and corkscrewing into his tight, virgin hole.

“OH! _Ahh ha- hah_ \- Jesus fuck there’s a- nnghhaaAAHH!  You have your tongue in my asshole, Sir! _Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!”_

The wolf was steadily devouring him, lapping roughly at the sensitive skin, sucking the pink bud, drilling his tongue hard and deep, scooping the slick walls inside before mouthing wet and sloppy like he was starving for it. And Stiles had never felt anything so amazing in his life.

And the sounds above him, hungry, animal grunts, it was doing things for Stiles that were so very, very wrong. God he couldn’t believe how filthy, how unashamed this guy was in his enthusiasm, as if Stiles was the only thing that could satisfy him. It occurred to him, in an out of body sort of way, that he was currently screaming, writhing, trying to shove back to get more like a desperate whore. Fuck he’d never done _anything_ before, never even been kissed and here he was half stripped on the forest floor while a werewolf feasted on his ass. Strong hands kneaded the globes of his buttocks, held him open and in place, making Stiles take it.

And that was what did him in. Almost without warning Stiles came violently, clawing at the dirt, wailing and seizing up and the wolf didn’t slow down one bit. Too sensitive, Stiles twisted and whimpered, come running up his chest, slithering around his neck, and that tongue just tasted and took until he sobbed from the glut of pleasure. Every tastebud felt huge against his twitching skin, the thick, wet muscle stabbing deeper, working his loosening rim open.

Then it stopped, and he found himself flipped belly down, listening to the distinctive sound of skin on skin, rapid and desperate. Warm stripes of come painted Stiles’ ass as the wolf howled. More and more and more, dripping between his cheeks and down his balls, sticky and copious and god he fucking _liked_ it. He liked the dirty wet feel of getting covered in so much come.

“So…..so….I mean wow you were-- wait, what - what are you doing?!”

What he was doing was rubbing it in, pinning Stiles down by the small of his back while he massaged the come into his skin, coating his balls, kneading them with surprisingly gentle hands, wiping it across his back and every inch of his ass while Stiles squirmed and moaned then squeaked when he was flipped over again. He was given the same treatment with his own come across his belly. He made a face at the streaks of dirt he could see mixed with his spunk, the feeling of the werewolf’s saliva cooling as it dripped from his hole.

In the dark, the Alpha’s eyes glowed red.

oOo

_“Dude, you alive? I looked for you last night but couldn’t find you!”_

Stiles trudged up the stairs and into his room, almost dropping the phone when he got a look at himself in the mirror. He was still holding his ruined jeans around his waist with one hand, the other holding his cell to his ear. His favorite red hoodie was a complete mess, stretched out and covered in filth. He had a branch with a tiny pinecone bud in his hair. His neck was covered in purple marks and beard burn, and he knew his ass probably looked about the same.

“You looked for me, huh?”

_“Weeeelll…”_

“You mean you took your eyes off Allison’s breasts for one point four seconds to scan the room before leaving for her place.”

_“I thought you were having fun! Anyway, I’m outside, I’ll be up in a sec, I got something amazing I gotta tell you!”_

“Bet I can beat you.” Stiles muttered at the disconnected line.

Stiles was just pulling out clean clothes when Scott barged into his room.

“She _said_ it, Stiles! She-- holy shit what happened to you?!”

“What happened is you _left_ me and I got talked into sneaking onto the Hale property like some _very special episode_ punk. Oh yeah, and I met my first werewolf. Pretty sure it was feral.”

Scott’s eyes went huge and Stiles rolled his in return. “Oh my god, what happened? Did it hurt you?”

“Well, he chased me through the woods, tackled me to the ground…..and then rimmed me blind.”

“OH MY…..wait. I don’t get it.”

“A werewolf. Tongue-fucked my asshole. Until I came so hard I went blind. I’m blind now. I can’t see you.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and noticed in the mirror he’d only smeared more dirt on himself. Scott looked on horrified. “I don’t even want to think about what kind of person it makes me that I liked it. Like, really, _really_ liked it.” Scott scrunched up his face.

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“ _Dude_.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a major let down if I ever have a normal, vanilla sexual experience after this.”

“But are you ok? Cause that sounds….”

“I’m fine, cause you know what’s weird? He was all wolfed out and scary for a minute there, but then I got freaked, and he backed off. Like, tried to...comfort me? I don’t know how to explain it, and I just…..you know what, I’m gonna take a shower. Then you can tell me your big news. I have ten bucks on you guys dropping the L word on each other.”

Stiles smiled to himself as Scott squawked in disbelief at his best friend ruining his big surprise. He shut the bathroom door, stared at it a moment before locking it. Turning on the shower, Stiles undressed himself and took a hard look in the mirror. Besides being disheveled, he could see the dried streaks of come on his stomach and across his hips, feel the tight, itchy pull of it and smell the rich, fecund scent of the wolf’s spunk and his own sweat mingling on his skin. It should be disgusting, he’d kind of always imagined his first sexual experience to involve more perfume and vanilla lip gloss rubbing off on him, but the _maleness_ of it, the primal animal tang filled his nose and made his cock thicken.

There was a significant bruise on his neck, a single purpling mark stitched with neat little dents. Stiles ran a finger over it, remembered the way the werewolf had gripped him in his teeth like he owned Stiles. He pressed two fingers into the mark, groaning at the way the pain tinted ache ran down his spine, stiffening his dick further until he was panting.

“You ok in there?”

Stiles jumped, heartbeat jittering with guilt.

“Yup, all good!”

He jumped into the shower, letting the hot spray run over him.

After the wolf had finished shellacking him with come, the guy had dropped belly down on top of Stiles, asleep and snoring right against his face almost instantly. Stiles had hummed and poked him in the ribs, but when he wouldn’t wake, Stiles actively tried to roll the guy off him, only to discover that he was woefully unprepared to bench press two hundred pounds of naked wolf-man off his chest. He’d woken up at dawn, clumsily redressed, lying next to his jeep. He must have been carried there in his sleep, which had struck him as a weirdly nice gesture.

Rubbing the soap over his arms and belly, Stiles moved around to his ass and felt the odd slip-slickness of so much come as it was rinsed away. He dared a pass between his cheeks, finger brushing against his hole, gasping at how sensitive it felt. It didn’t feel swollen, just tender, the nerves alight at the tiniest pressure. A raw feeling sting lit up his backside, beard burn, he realized. A _man_ had done this, not some other skinny teen fumbling with him in a parent’s basement. And not just a man, and Alpha werewolf. With that thought on point, Stiles slid one soapy finger smoothly inside himself, biting back a curse at the sudden jolt of pleasure. The angle was off, but he managed to work it in enough of a rhythm that it didn’t take more than a few strokes to his dick before he was choking back a stuttered cry, the memory of sharp teeth and beautiful green eyes following him down.


	2. Chapter 2

“Billinski! What the hell’d you do to your locker?”

Stiles skidded around the corner, Scott on his heels. What was left of his gym locker door hung by one remaining screw, the metal crumpled like a piece of paper. Most of his lacrosse gear was strewn about the floor along with his gym bag that someone or something had torn open. His elbow pads looked like they’d been put through a paper shredder, his uniform, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Listen, as a teacher I’ve gotta tell you that we have an excellent drug counseling program and that steroids are not the answer, but as your coach I’d ask you to share any extra with Greenberg. That kid couldn’t lift a barbell with a forklift.”

Benched for practice, Stiles glared at his teammates, trying to figure out which of them could have pulled this stunt.

“Hey Little Red, I knew you’d chicken out last night. Did you actually make it all the way to the Preserve in that piece of shit car of yours before turning around or did you just run straight home like a little bitch?” Jackson sneered at him as he made a pass by the bleachers. Why was he even bothering looking at his other classmates? Jackson was the only one douchey enough to pull a stunt like destroying his locker.

“Where the fuck did you put my uniform you asshat?” Stiles got right up into Jackson’s space, not really taking into consideration the fact that the guy was decked out in full protective gear, and therefore, had the advantage.

“What the hell are you talking about you spaz? I didn’t touch your fucking uniform.” Jackson checked him with his chest, and Stiles fell back against the bench, popping right back up and shoving Jackson in the shoulder as hard as he could.

“Hey hey yo boys! Break it up!” Coach Finstock yanked them apart by the collars. “Wittmore, get back in the lineup. Billinski, go walk it off.”

Stiles growled and turned hard on his heel, stalking off to the perimeter of the field, trying to put as much space between him and Jackson as he could.

He was just about to make a lap, when something wrapped around his arm and hauled him into the trees.

Stiles was whipped around and slammed into the nearest tree trunk.

“What the shhh- _yyyooohmygod!_ ”

Looming a full head taller, the bulk of his body seeming to surround Stiles’ slim figure, the werewolf had him pinned, fisting his shirt while his other hand ran up Stiles’ side, scenting the air a foot from his body.

“Oh hey buddy,” Stiles’ voice shook. Sweet baby Moses, the guy was…. _mostly_  human this time, red eyes the only hint otherwise, but still very much naked. He was _covered_ in dirt but instead of looking disgusting, it just made him look like an unrealistically hot coal miner, like his black smudged face and grimy muscles should be scowling out from a cologne ad.

“You….uuhhh….listen, I don’t know - _no no no_!”

Stiles struggled to keep his shirt where it was, but the wolf was determined to have it otherwise, shoving the fabric up to Stiles’ armpits and glaring at him like he couldn’t understand what Stiles was fussing about. The team was running drills only yards away, he could hear them shouting, the whistle blowing, someone laughing, but that was also the moment when the werewolf’s mouth found his nipple and all sound sort of went offline for a few seconds after that.

“Oh my _gah- fuck!_ That’s so good...mmmhhHH...no wait! There’s people that-- holy shit _yeah like that_!” Stiles had a grip on the wolf’s hair, hanging on for dear life as the man mouthed and sucked at his chest, bringing his nipples to tight, electric peaks that had him whining and arching off the rough bark of the tree. The wolf rumbled deep in his chest, nuzzled at Stiles’ neck and lapped at the mark he’d left there. Stiles couldn’t help it, his hands traveled down without waiting for permission and wrapped around the wolf’s erection that was currently stabbing him in the hip. So hot. Molten steel-hard cock he needed both hands to manage.

“Muh- motherfucking...oh my god you’re so huge! I couldn’t see last night but that’s - jeez you’re a beast. I want to break my jaw on this thing. And you get a knot, don’t you?” He jacked his hands slowly and the man growled and snapped his hips in, knocking Stiles back as well, into the tree. “Yeah you do, big fat knot on your fat Alpha dick. I can’t believe this is happening.”

But at that, the guy pulled away, and Stiles thought maybe he’d done something wrong judging from the look on his face. Frustrated and a little upset. He began to whine, softly, and Stiles reached out to cup his hand around the wolf’s cheek. The stubble there scratched against his palm and sent tiny frissons of pleasure up the sensitive nerves.

“Deh-rek.” the werewolf grit, as if this one word were too heavy to push out. He shoved his face fully into Stiles’ hand and nuzzled there before looking up at him through those exquisite black lashes, willing him to understand. It took a few shocked seconds, but Stiles got there.

His smile made his cheeks hurt.

“Stiles.” he exhaled back. And the werewolf - Derek - dropped immediately to his knees, working open the fly of Stiles’ jeans in record time and shoving his hands inside to cradle his slim hips.

“ _Stiles_.” He breathed out against the dark thatch of curls as if relieved of some terrible burden.

Then dove straight in and deepthroated Stiles’ cock in one go.

“Shii-iiit!” Stiles arched back as if electrocuted, shoving his own wrist in his mouth to muffle his voice and looking in panic over his shoulder, fully expecting the entire lacrosse team to be standing there. Derek secured his hips against the tree trunk with wide, warm hands and sucked and _sucked_ and god his mouth was so strong…... _so…_. _strong_. Stiles might’ve been concerned he was about to get his balls sucked right out the end of his dick but he was too busy trying not to scream from the beautiful, depraved sensation of having an orgasm torn from him with such raw, single-minded determination, right out in the open where anyone could come looking for him and see…

He flung his arms up when it hit, gripping the rough bark above his head with white-tipped fingers as he choked on it, mouth twisted for a bigger sound than he was able to make. Choked on the liquid white fire scorching every muscle into contracting too hard as he spilled down Derek’s greedy throat.

He was still coming down from the high, legs weak and threatening to buckle, when he looked down at Derek, kneeling on the ground and licking his lips hungrily, smacking his mouth like he was chasing the taste. A wolf after the kill.

“Jeez.” Stiles shuddered. No eighteen year old human boy was built to handle this kind of next level pornographic shit. But his crash course wasn’t done yet apparently, and he was expected to hang on for the ride, because the next thing he knew, Derek spun him easily, wedged him against that poor, defiled tree again and spread his cheeks.

“Recovery! I need a minute to - fuckfuckfuck! Wait! It’s too much! I can’t- I can’t- “

But Derek only lapped at him with a warm, firm tongue, getting him so dirty-good dripping with saliva that more than some of Stiles’ feeble protests were introspective, mildly unsettled with how very much ok he was with all of this. There had to be something wrong with him.

His hole throbbed, fucking _pulsed_ with emptiness, the blood-rich rim already softening, already eager for what it was urged to take last night. And Stiles could only wrap his arms around the anchoring tree and sob when that tongue began to piston into him. Deep, deeper, steady and implacable, forcing him open and filling him with pleasure so good there were actual tears wetting his cheeks. He couldn’t come again, not so soon, but it was building beyond that, drawing it out to some exquisite discomfort that he struggled to avoid out of instinct, but begged for more of in a tearstained voice. He had just started shaking uncontrollably when Derek stood, crowded into him and slotted the searing hot girth of his cock in the spit wetted cleft of his ass and began to rut furiously against him.

“Oh damnit Derek YES!” His chest and hips were getting pounded against the bark and Derek’s hands had found stable purchase looped under his arms and holding his shoulders square. He could barely breath, he could barely think about staying quiet with the squelch and drag of Derek’s cock hammering against him, and in some dim corner, he understood that this was the werewolf’s only viable option because Stiles’ hole was still too small and tight at the moment to take him. But god he wanted to, he wanted to know what it felt like to be fucked too wide to bare on the end of a giant Alpha cock. His own twitched, drooled and did it’s best to rejoin the party, but it was too late, Derek was growling his name, hips seizing, coming all over his back, his ass, dripping down into his pant legs.

With his face half buried in Stiles’ sweaty neck, Derek ran a finger down the line of his back, dragging a trail of sticky come and drawing it down to where he wanted it. “Mine.” he panted right as he shoved that one thick digit deep inside, removed it even as Stiles was gasping in shock.

Again, “Mine.” Again he gathered his spend and made sure it was left deep inside Stiles body. He’d never get it out, he thought, no matter how much he showered.

oOo

“We should call someone.”

“How hard can it be?” Stiles stared down at the bottle. Shake well, it said, so he shook. “You just dab it on and blend it in. Lydia said blending was the most important part.”

“No, not about the concealer. I mean about your werewolf problem.”

“It’s not a problem, exactly. More of a situation. Besides, who exactly do I call? Animal control? Warn them that a naked feral werewolf is roaming Beacon Hills performing special ops missions on my prostate?” Scott probably didn’t realize the severity of the face he was making. Horrified was a hilarious look on him.

“You could tell your dad…..just saying.”

“I should slap your mouth. You want me to tell my _dad_? The man who didn’t even believe me the first - or second - time I told him I was gay? The gun carrying Sheriff with ready access to detailed topographical maps of Beacon Hills and an armed posse? That dad? Why don’t I just call your mom and tell her about the time you and Allison got drunk and forgot the condom and then had to drive three towns over to get a pregnancy test? Should we do that too, as long as we’re sharing our _situations_ with our parents?”

“That’s different! We’re in a relationship!” Scott dialed up the puppy eyes, going for the big guns with a barely quivering pout. He was good, the bastard.

And Stiles got it, he did. From the outside, this probably looked bad.

That very afternoon it had happened again. Coming out of school after detention, Stiles had been digging through his bag looking for his car keys, cursing the walk since he’d only been ten minutes late this morning but that meant he’d been stuck parking in the shitty spot all the way out by the dumpsters.

His head snapped up when he heard the growl.

“No! Now hang on! We are in a public parking lot. This is city property!”

Derek just glared at him, naked as ever but scrubbed clean this time, skulking next to his jeep and looking like he was two seconds from pouncing. Stiles edged sideways, attempting to put the jeep between them, because as much as his dick was now programmed to yell _Hooray_ any time it saw a feral werewolf, there were after school activities about to let out and he did not want to be caught by the cheer squad getting pornographically mauled.

Derek circled around the jeep after him, still growling.

“Hey Billinski!” he heard called from the other end of the parking lot. Stiles cursed and darted away from Derek’s attempt to snatch him. “Hey hang on a minute!”

Crap, Coach Finstock was shuffling through the maze of cars towards them, and Derek had now apparently noticed the man approaching, pausing to scowl, just enough time for Stiles to throw open the back door and scramble for something to cover Derek. He came up with a rumpled beach towel and raced to wrap it around Derek’s waist.

“Please keep this on, do you understand? I cannot explain your dick to my coach. And no growling!”

Derek looked down at the towel, untucking it with a frown. Stiles slapped his hands away and tucked it back in, the two of them fighting over it before Stiles finally just opened the passenger door and herded Derek inside right as Finstock ambled up. Derek for his part seemed suddenly taken with the smell of the jeep, distracted into sniffing it heavily.

“Your new uniform just came in, it’s in my office so now at least you can look like part of the team when you warm that bench tonight. And here’s the combo to your new locker.” He handed a little card to Stiles. “Nothing better happen to either one of them or you’re going to personally scrub out the showers after practice. And Greenberg’s got back hair like a mountain gorilla. None on his legs though, have you noticed that? Kid’s just made weird. Who’s your friend and what the hell’s his problem?”

Stiles turned to see Derek gripping the window frame with both hands and shooting Coach Finstock a starkly murderous, brow heavy glare.

“Oh! That’s just my...uh...cousin. Miguel. He always looks like that, it’s…..cultural.”

“He always hang out in your car half naked?”

“What? Oh yeah, you know….Europe. It’s been an adjustment. Anyway, see you at the game tonight Coach!”

Stiles ran around and jumped into the jeep, backing out of the parking lot as fast as he dared, realizing the minute he made it to open road he had no idea what the hell to do with the Alpha who was--

Who was jerking off like a mad man in the front seat. “Damnit Derek!” He scanned the road, but there was no good place to pull over, people on the sidewalk, a friggin playground down the street. He yanked the towel over Derek’s lap as best he could, but the man only tore it away a second later with the flare of the world’s angriest magician, canting his hips up further as he presented his spectacle to the world. Stiles cursed but kept driving, willing himself not to take his eyes off the road, which was a cruel sort of test seeing that Derek grunted and flexed like a porn star, the swirls of hair on his chest dampening with sweat, the veins on his massive forearms bulging. And just as Stiles was about to round the corner onto a quiet street that abutted the Perserve, Derek’s voice croaked with a filthy, broken sound and a geyser of come erupted all over the interior of the car. Stiles squawked and swerved off the road, yanking the jeep into park just in time to look over at Derek hosing down the dashboard, the windshield, the floor before whipping around and shooting the last heavy arcs across Stiles’ lap.

It was the most depraved thing Stiles had ever seen and he could not believe how hard it got his dick, even through his fury. He watched, open mouthed, as a heavy splash of come dripped down the windshield. How the hell was he supposed to drive home like this? What if his dad was off work?

Not that Derek seemed concerned at all, the fucking prick. Dove right into Stiles neck and sucked another huge mark into the side that had been left unscathed yesterday, grunted in accomplishment at the sight before diving straight out the window head first and darting off into the trees.

“You asshole!” Stiles screamed after him, then jammed his car in gear and tried not to speed.

Which was how he found himself on Lydia’s front steps, car hastily cleaned but lemony fresh, pointing at the twin hickies bookending his neck that his lacrosse uniform would definitely not cover.

“You’re the only one I could think of that might know what to do about this.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes and thinned her lips a fraction. “Are you implying I’m a whore?” She asked coolly.

Stiles knew how to address royalty, “I’m saying you’re the paragon of feminine perfection and I can’t think of anyone else who’d be skilled enough to fix it so it lasts through the game.”

“Hmmmh,” she huffed. “Even though I see what you’re doing, you also happen to be right. Stay here.”

She returned five minutes later with a tube of something called Dermablend and assurances that it was strong enough to cover tattoos. Which had Stiles asking why she might need something like this in the first place, but the door was already on its way shut.

oOo

They were murdering the other team, the score so comically uneven that Coach had actually let Scott off the bench for the second half with the idea that even if the other guys managed to score a few points off him it would be deemed an act of mercy. Scott was so excited, bless him, kept turning around to wave at Stiles and his mom and Alison and got checked hard each time he did, once from his own team because he wasn’t paying attention. But he did manage to score once and Stiles almost missed it because he was too busy staring off into the black line of trees around the field and puzzling over Derek.

Where was he right now? What was he doing? Had he always been out there or had something happened? Stiles wished he could talk to him. The guy currently had two usable words at his disposal, preferring to stick to his well tested pattern of grunt-manhandle-hump until they both shot off. After which he would disappear and Stiles was left trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. Regardless of what Scott said, Stiles wasn’t a victim, not with how enthusiastically he’d been enjoying things. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Derek was his responsibility, the man had come to him in a troubling state and one way or another Stiles needed to break through.

Because there were details that didn’t fit, that picked at him. All three encounters had been on or around this past full moon, and at least for the first two, Derek had looked exactly like someone who had been living out in the wilderness for longer than the average camping trip. But he’d been clean when he showed up beside Stiles’ jeep in the school parking lot this afternoon. He smelled of soap, his breath wasn’t rank like someone who’d been feasting on prey animals without access to a toothbrush. Stiles was starting to wonder if the guy was even feral.

That night Stiles began researching everything he could on werewolves in general, finding out quickly enough there was just too much information. So he’d narrowed his focus to feral weres. There seemed to be two distinct types, Omegas who’d been too long in the wild without socialization, and weres suffering from Ravening Disorder. And from what Stiles could gather, an Omega like that tended to avoid all forms of civilization and therefore would have ignored him completely in the woods that night.

And if Derek was suffering from RD, Stiles wouldn’t have just been hunted, he would have been torn to pieces, mostly eaten, buried, dug up and eaten again.

Looking into the specific behavior Derek exhibited turned up exactly the kind of websites one might expect given the search terms he was forced to use. And he tried to stay on task, he really did. But no matter how he willed himself to ignore it, there was just too much temptation out there and way too many sites beckoning him with videos of doe eyed twinks getting stuffed by howling muscle freaks with paranormal stamina. And once he hit a vein dedicated strictly to the Little Red Riding Hood trope, it was just way too easy to click on one little link, then another...

The next morning, Stiles woke with his face mashed against the keyboard still wearing his lacrosse uniform, the top half anyway, with a website he would never be able to explain to his father coming alive on his screen. Yeah, things had spiraled pretty far down the research hole last night. All of his fucking banner ads now featured hulking, half-shifted werewolves posing with the same heaving, fang heavy snarl, taglines all reading variations of _All the better to taste you with_ , or _I’ll show you how bad I am_.

He needed a shower. And he was still no closer to figuring Derek out.


	3. Chapter 3

A week went by, two weeks, and Derek didn’t return. Stiles was jumpy early on, half expecting to get cornered every time he was outside alone and, unsurprisingly, half hard for it. When nothing happened, Stiles went looking, hiking out into the Preserve, though this time in the daylight, but still found no sign of his favorite growling nudist. He was ready to write it off as some sort of werewolf glitch, a fugue state maybe. Lydia had once suffered something like that, he remembered, it had been the talk of the school at the time. Maybe werewolves could too, though he wasn’t sure how. Or maybe this was the wolfy version of a bachelor party, one last howl at the moon and now Derek was on a yacht with his gorgeous fiancée, his friends laughing about how they’d lost him for three whole days and when he came back he smelled like teenage human boy, they’d never let him live it down.

While that made the most sense to him, because there still was no truly plausible reason for a hot Alpha werewolf to want into his pants, Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that Derek needed help. So he kept on researching. He slipped into his father’s work portal in order to do a search for missing werewolves or sightings of possibly feral ones in the area but came up with nothing. The internet was still no use as far as pinpointing what might be wrong and it wasn’t like he could ask another were, the Hales might have left years ago, but this was still technically their territory and as such the only place anyone in twenty miles could meet a werewolf in person was at a club outside Redding called FangSlave. His virgin ass wasn’t going anywhere near that place.

“If you’re so worried, maybe you should talk to Allison.” Scott groused, annoyed at Stiles’ continued refusal to pay attention to their game.

“Oh yeah, smart thinking! Let’s clue the nutjob anti-wolf evangelists in on the fact that Derek’s out there in a weakened state. Maybe she’s got a cousin that can show her how to craft a necklace out of his claws.”

“Hey Allison’s not like that! Her family only assists the police with werewolves that commit crimes!”

“You mean like her Aunt, the psychotic currently locked up in supermax?”

“Well besides her…..”

“Or her incarcerated grandfather? Or her incarcerated _mom_?”

“Oh yeah,” Scott got that dazed look when _facts_ showed up and started knocking over his chairs. “I always sort of forget that she has a mom. It’s only been her and her dad for so long.”

“Uhhh….nope. It’s been her and her dad for as long as you’ve been _dating_ her. Her family’s crazy bomb didn’t go off that long ago.”

“Whatever, I just don’t know why you even care. He’s gone dude, that’s a good thing.”

oOo

The month was nearly out the next time he encountered Derek.

Encountered was much too conversational a word, Stiles mused. One encountered a charming bookshop or a snarl in traffic due to an unexpected street fair. Was there a word that meant terror-stabbed? Lanced right through the heart with white hot fear by the set of glowing red eyes and glistening fangs hulking in the darkest corner of one’s bedroom? If it existed, he was too terror-stabbed to think of it right now.

“Son are you ok?” his dad called from downstairs at the sound of Stiles screaming and promptly somersaulting backwards with the shock.

“Yeah! I’m good, just a- uh- really big spider in here!” He whacked the wall twice for good measure. “Got it!”

“Stiles,” Derek pushed out of the shadows. His fangs receded but his eyes stayed red. He was wearing clothes, jeans with muddy brown bloodstains, the remains of a black cotton tshirt that hung from his broad shoulders in tatters, but they were still clothes. That was harder to reconcile than the fact that he was in Stiles’ room. From his back pocket, Derek took something and held it out to Stiles, and for a second time that night, Stiles was clutched with fear.

A knife. A nasty looking thing with curved teeth and a strange black substance smeared over the keen edge. God he was going to die, this was some elaborate killing ritual and Derek was—

Derek fell to his knees in front of Stiles.

“Kill……me.” He grit out, extending the knife in offering. Stiles’ eyes were saucers, he shook his head violently back and forth.

“Dude, what?! What the hell are you doing, I can’t kill you!”

“Can-“ Derek slapped the handle into Stiles’ palm and closed his fingers around it. With a clawed hand he tore the remains of his shirt from his body and pointed the tip over his heart. “Wolfsbane. _Please_.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“Only you….I tried…..my wolf won’t….”

“Hey Stiles, buddy?” The Sheriff knocked on the door. Derek was instantly on alert, the knife forgotten on the carpet as he got to his feet in a flash, clutching Stiles to him and growling. “I’m going to bed, you mind turning that movie down you’re watching?”

“Yeah, sure dad!” Stiles called out as he wrestled to keep his hand over Derek’s mouth to quiet him. He waited until he was sure his father’s bedroom door was closed before hissing at Derek. “So I notice you can talk. Mind working out a full sentence telling me what the hell is going on? Who are you? What’s happened to you?”

For a long while, Derek only seemed capable of breathing heavily through his nose. Stiles watched him, patient, still held close against the overheated mountain of shoulders and abs and wide, furred chest. He didn’t try to move away, and the decision seemed to calm Derek in steady increments.

“Can’t make it……stop.”

“Make what stop?” Stiles prodded when that appeared to be all Derek was willing to give.

Derek pulled Stiles in tighter, snuffled at his neck and collarbone and let out the most pitiful, wounded sound imaginable before forcefully letting go. He scooped up the knife and pressed it into Stiles’ hand, his eyes a beautiful, clear green.

“Keep this. And if you have to, use it.”

With that he dove through the open window into the night.

It wasn’t until later, when he’d been lying awake in bed from a brain that won’t shut off, that Stiles realizes that in the moment before he’d fled, he had gotten a glimpse of the man beneath the beast.

oOo

It’s not like Beacon Hills was a total hick town. Not like everyone knew everyone else, but it was small enough that on the second day Stiles came to the realization that the sleek black Camero he’s been seeing around is defiantly new. And it’s definitely following him. At first it’s just at the fringes, driving round the block at his school, drifting through the parking lot when he’s out getting groceries. But then it’s in his rear view mirror and matching his speed. Stiles knows his dad isn’t home, so he heads to Scott’s. Just as he’s stepping out of the car, the Camero slows, the dark tinted window rolling down, allowing Stiles the first real glimpse inside. The girl driving is much younger than he expected, with a dark expression that pings off as familiar to Stiles in some way. There’s no mistaking the way she leans over the passenger seat and sniffs the air. _Werewolf_ , Stiles thinks, turning tail and hurrying inside the house. _Just what I need_.

He’s almost forgotten her hours later when he finally heads home. The jeep engine clicked as it cooled while Stiles digs for his keys.

“Hey kid!” The girl stalked down the sidewalk towards him. The Camero is nowhere to be seen, the foresight that implies not making Stiles feel all that inclined to chat with her. Or maybe it’s the strained smile she’s doing her best to hold into place, a look of forced easiness that seems entirely unnatural to her.

“Kid?” Stiles is a much better hand at pretending everything’s cool. “I’m probably older than you are.”

“Sorry,” She shrugged, kept walking. Stiles tried not to fumble with his keys. “Old habit. Look, I’m kinda new in town and I though this place was free of weres but it looks like I was wrong. Caught scent of one but I can’t seem to find them, every trail leads me to you. I don’t want to break any rules here, so if you could point me in the right direction so I can make a formal introduction, that’d be great. You know, werewolf manners and all.” She’d stopped halfway up his walk, but Stiles was under no illusion that the meager distance made him safe.

“I’m not friends with any weres.” Which isn’t a lie. Whatever he and Derek are, it’s too convoluted to be called friends.

Her façade cracked, and the pure, uncut malice there made him scared in a way Derek never did. “Where is he.”

He thinks about the wolfsbane knife, uselessly shut up in his bedside drawer. He thinks about Derek, alone and suffering out there somewhere. “He? Listen, I don’t know what you-“

She’s got him pinned to the front door with terrifying speed, eyes glowing gold, claws inches from his throat. “This isn’t a game. I can smell him all over you. You cannot fucking _imagine_ the trouble you’ll be in for if you don’t tell me where to find him!”

“I don’t know.”

She snarled when she heard the truth in his heartbeat, turned and stomped back the way she came without so much as a parting threat. Stiles assumed it was implied.

oOo

When Stiles woke that same night, he didn’t startle at the red eyes at the foot of his bed, he’d almost expected it.

“Derek,” Stiles sighed, still half asleep. It was all the invitation needed. Derek was on him, pawing at the covers so he could get his hands on Stiles’ sleep clothes, shoving them off to rub himself all over Stiles bare skin, inhumanly deep grumbles making Stiles’ whole body sing. Stiles groaned, Derek was already naked, and the feel of his fever hot skin was threatening to override his brain. He wriggled back an inch, cupped the sides of Derek’s head and maneuvered him until their eyes connected.

“Hey, buddy, you with me? Derek….DEREK!” The red flickered and faded, splintered green irises sharpening with awareness under a hard-drawn brow.

“So- sorry- “ He managed to cough, head collapsing onto Stiles’ chest. “Get- knife-“

“We’re not doing that again, ok? I’m not murdering you in my bedroom.” He pet at Derek’s heaving sides as the man trembled on top of him, his control palpably tenuous. “You’re heavy as shit and I’d probably suffocate under you before I managed to push you off. And the blood? I’d have to throw out this mattress and you can’t imagine the kind of hell I had to go through to convince my dad to spring for memory foam. Besides, do you know what that would do to the resale value of this house? I-“

Derek growled, but with an edge of frustration rather than anger. It was a good sign, Stiles made most people crazy with his unfocused chatter. It meant Derek still had some of his wits about him. “I want to help you, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Can you do that?”

“……useless…..” Derek shook his head, buried his nose in the soft skin of Stiles’ armpit, fitting his teeth down the rungs of his ribcage one after the other.

Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek meant it was useless to try to help, or if Derek himself was useless. Either way, he deserved a gold medal for the amount of control he dredged up to resist the suffocating allure of having the man rutting against him and memorizing his proportions with the flat of his tongue. Solid gold, none of that plated crap.

“Derek, wait, there’s…. _fuckinggoddamnit_ _you’re good_ \- ah _ah_ \- shit, there’s someone looking for you! Derek!”

And the response was so soft, hindered by the delicate spot just above the crest of his hip, that Stiles almost didn’t hear it. “Let them come….”

That was as far as Derek could hold out. Stiles tried his best to get the werewolf to tell him who they were, why they were after him, what exactly he could do to help pull Derek from the state he was in, but Derek only flipped Stiles on his belly, licked and sucked and bit his skin red until he spread both cheeks and once again sated himself on pure taste of the panting boy beneath him. When his hands wandered, when his intention became clear, Stiles managed, with some difficulty, to fish a bottle of lube from his nightstand, awkwardly twisting his arm behind him to squirt a messy stream right down the crack of his ass. At the feel of the slickness beneath the pads of his fingers, Derek growled, pleased, and wasted no time pushing one thick finger deep into Stiles, another one following soon after. Stiles lost his breath at the rhythm, ready for pain, the sharp burn of being stretched so quickly, but there was none. Nothing but warm, delicious fullness that very quickly wasn’t enough. Derek fucked him on his fingers, rutted his huge cock on the soft, lube slick space between Stiles’ thighs, grunting, screwing a third finger in and going right for Stiles’ prostate.

Stiles didn’t see the red eyes, the teeth, the lines of winding black that snaked up Derek’s arm as he took every hint of pain. All Stiles knew was the solid body around him, in him, the feeling that though something was wrong with Derek, this here- their bodies and breath and want that pumped their hearts in strong, deafening beats- this was right.

oOo

Stiles woke like a man returning from the dead. Deep, inky sleep had taken him after he’d come more times than should be physiologically possible.  He was tacky with a truly objectionable amount of come and when he tried to roll over with a groan, he discovered the sleeping werewolf plastered to his back who was still three fingers deep in his ass. Had they been like this all night? Reflexively he clenched against the intrusion, ready for soreness or a bright flash of pain, but there was nothing but the pleasant, full ache. Without thinking about it, Stiles rocked back, moaning at the slightly deeper pressure. Derek was awake instantly, grumbling, snaking his other arm tighter around Stiles’ midsection and taking over the slow thrust into his still slick heat. Stiles’ breath skittered, eyes rolling back as he arched against the huge, determined body pinning him down.

“Mine,” Derek growled into his neck, the words barely sounding human. “My Stiles.”

“Yeah, I- “

_Knock Knock_

Both heads snapped up, but Derek didn’t stop pistoning his fingers. If anything, he got faster. “ _My Stiles_ …”

“Stiles, son, I’ve gotta head to work. Don’t be late for school.”

“Yeah!” Stiles yelped. “Yes! I’m— _oh fuck_!”

Thank God his dad had long since become immune to Stiles flailing about in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Staring out the window of his first period history class, Stiles still felt out of breath. Getting to school on time this morning had been….challenging.

Derek hadn’t been interested in letting him get out of bed, even less so in letting him shower. It had only been after Stiles made a break for the kitchen, frying up the entire package of bacon he kept hidden beneath the carrots, Derek mouthing at his neck the whole time, that he’d gotten a few minutes to himself to get ready for school. The look of awe Derek had given him when Stiles presented him with a platter full of cured meat was almost too goddamned adorable for Stiles to handle. Without thinking, he snuck a quick kiss to Derek’s head while the man demolished his food then hurried to the bathroom. When he emerged, the bacon was gone, his laundry was strewn all over his bedroom and the window lay open, Derek nowhere to be found.

Stiles had leaned over the sill, looking for Derek, but instead locked eyes with the dark-haired girl, the Camero parked in his driveway with the engine still running. As she climbed out from behind the wheel, she glared at him, scented the air and snarled, dropping back down into the seat and peeling off down the street. Stiles scrambled back inside and scrawled the license plate down on a piece of scrap paper, slipping it into his pocket for later.

The girl must not have caught up to Derek, because Stiles caught a glimpse of him once, as he drove past a copse of trees on his way to school. A pale figure barreling through the trees parallel to the road, glowing red eyes on him until he was forced to turn south.

Allison had started using a new shampoo, or worn a new sweater, or something, because Scott was far too distracted that morning to notice anything off with his friend. That was fine, that was for the best. Scott still hadn’t come around to the idea that Derek needed help, needed Stiles’ help, and Stiles was honestly tired of the low thrum hostility and guilt inducing puppy eyes coming off his friend any time he brought it up.

It was during second period when things went to shit.

Someone’s phone went off, then another. The teacher tried to reprimand them but his own text alert sounded. Someone went running down the hall. People were cursing, laughing, gasping.

“Alright, everyone settle down!” Their teacher tried to regain order, but more and more people were rushing past the classroom and down the hall.

_“Attention students, we ask that you please stay in your classrooms. The situation is under control. Any student found outside of class will get immediate detention for a week.”_

The principal’s voice sounded anything but calm over the intercom. Next to him, Danny’s cell went off with three texts in a row.

“What is it?” Stiles leaned over and whispered, not that he would have been heard over the commotion.

“Dude, they just found a big ass stag on the front steps of the school, throat ripped out. Nobody knows how it got there!”

Stiles paled.

“I heard Jenny Tucasetto found it and fainted right on top of it! _Covered_ in blood!” Someone pipped up.

“Kai went out there and said it wasn’t even dead yet, still, like, twitching.”

“That is so gross.”

“Class, I’m going to have to ask you to please take your seats and quiet down. I know this is probably upsetting, but our town has a long history of mountain lions roaming this area and I’m sure that’s all we’re dealing with.”

“I need to go to the nurse!” Stiles’ hand shot up.

“Mr. Stillinski, don’t think that you can pull anything over on me just to sneak some photos of the carnage for your Instagram.”

At the word carnage, he paled further. “No, I- all this talk of blood and dead….animals. I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Oh my _God_ let him _go_!” A girl in the back screeched.

“Wait, wait! Hold it till I can get video!” Jackson laughed, whipping out his phone.

And maybe it was his pallor, or maybe the fine tremor of his hands that was unlike Stiles’ usual jitters, or maybe Mr. Carre just didn’t like his odds of getting trapped in a room with a sick kid while the custodians were dealing with the mess out front. He gave Stiles a hall pass with as stern a warning as he could, but his attention was already being drawn away by Jackson making some of the girls scream with details of how animals devour their prey.

He was running so fast down the hall, he didn’t actually see her until she slammed him into the wall of lockers.

“I don’t think you have a hall pass,” he wheezed.

“Listen you little shit, you’re running out of time to save your own ass. Tell me where you’re keeping him and you won’t have to get hurt.” Her eyes flashed gold. Students were still milling about the halls, cracking jokes and shouting and completely ignoring the two of them.

“Where I’m keeping him?” Stiles laughed, he was mostly sure she couldn’t kill him here with all these witnesses. Then again, with his acute lack of popularity, he wasn’t sure anyone would take notice if he was lying in a pool of his own blood. “Up your ass and to the left. You’ll need move that stick though.”

“You’re so _fucking_ lucky I need you alive right now otherwise I’d fold you in half backwards and shove you in this locker!”

“I don’t think Derek would like that very much.” It was probably stupid to try and use Derek as a threat seeing as he had no concrete evidence how the werewolf would feel about it one way or another.

But it also worked.

The girl dropped her hands from his shirt like he was on fire, backing away with a look of pure, impotent rage.

“Pray,” She snarled, trying to hold back her fangs. “ _Pray_ I find him soon, or I’m coming back to use your ass as bait.”

Stiles slipped out the side door the moment she was gone, listened to the sound of the Camero’s engine as it sped away. He was just unlocking his car when the air split with a howl, long and booming, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Everything went still, the whole world holding its breath at the sound of an Alpha announcing his presence. A car alarm went off several blocks away. Someone in one of the classrooms behind him howled back in a cracking, pubescent voice. Stiles didn’t waste any more time.

oOo

He’d thought about looking for Derek in the Preserve, maybe corralling him back home or something, but the likely outcome of that scenario was getting pinned to the ground- again-  and ravaged again like he was the heroine of a bad romance novel. Again. Besides, Derek was fully aware of where he lived now and hadn’t shown any difficulties letting himself in when it suited him. No, his best course of action was to find out what he could about this girl. Because no matter how good a job Derek had been doing avoiding her before, he’d all but dropped a spotlight on his location for any wolf in a ten-mile radius with that howl.

One of the good things about living in a small town? All the police functions were merged onto one system. Not like in a big city where every department had its own siloed network. Nope, if you had the passcodes, then you could access everything.

And Stiles had had the passcodes since he was thirteen.

He got a hit on the Camero almost immediately, an old speeding ticket from almost two years back. But he wasn’t expecting the name on the registration. Or the photo on the matching license when he looked that up to confirm.

Derek Hale.

His wolf. Only the license stated he was a Beta, so he must have come into his status fairly recently. And right there beneath it, as required by law, his Alpha, Talia Hale. Former Alpha now, packs never had more than one, though families like the Hales, old lineages with prolific numbers, remained close allies with the packs that inevitable budded off when a new Alpha emerged from their ranks. When people talked about the Hales, it wasn’t just the large family headed by Talia that had moved off this land to God knows where, it was the vast network of Hale packs that held claim to a healthy majority of northern California.

If they’d met under different circumstances in Beacon Hills, Stiles would have just assumed Derek was a Hale. But loaners, Omegas, rarely were. What the hell had happened to him? Had they abandoned Derek after he’d become an Alpha? That wasn’t something he’d ever heard before, but maybe being an Alpha and feral had been cause for banishment? And what about this girl driving around town in Derek’s car? There was nothing about her that Stiles could find, no name, no photos, nothing.

Stiles kept digging. He focused on the Hales themselves. There was less than he’d thought in the database, but what was there had deep roots. It was nearly seven o’clock when he surfaced to the sound of his father’s key in the door. He shut down the website and flipped the pages of the notebook he’d been steadily filling so that only his biology notes were visible. He cracked open a few school books along his desk and just managed to get his headphones on by the time his dad poked his head in.

“Big test coming up?”

“What?” Stiles pushed the headphones back off, pretending to be engrossed in his work, hoping his dad wouldn’t notice the jack wasn’t actually plugged into anything. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was going to make dinner but I just have so much work, I didn’t realize….”

“Why don’t I order some take out? Chinese sound good?”

“Yeah, thanks dad.” He grinned, only feeling slightly guilty. “But nothing fried!” He yelled as his father headed downstairs.

Opening a new notebook, Stiles combed through the splotches of chicken scratch, building out a timeline of the Hales from the time Derek was born to today. A neatly printed, bulleted list that he finished just as the doorbell rang and was forced to abandon when his father called him down to eat. It beckoned to him all throughout dinner. He couldn’t make it back to his room fast enough, scooping up his notes and settling in to read them still chewing a mouthful of garlic string beans.

Derek Hale was born the second child of Talia and Michael Hale. He had four other siblings, all of which were still registered as Betas of Talia Hale. Derek and his oldest sister Laura had both attended Beacon Hills High School, in fact they’d been the last werewolf students to ever attend there.

Charges of harassment filed by the Hales against an unnamed party, the records sealed after a settlement.

Charges of public disturbance, stalking, coercion of a minor, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted arson, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, assaulting a police officer, all named against one individual. Kate Argent. The details are sealed, there wasn’t a trial. Kate Argent was sent to a maximum security psychiatric ward with very little legal resistance. This isn’t much of a surprise, local gossip had hinted at something like this for years.

Six months later, the Hale property is signed over to the care of their registered Emissary. Stiles pulled up short when he recognized the name. Deaton? The vet Scott had been working for the last few months? He’d met the guy a few times, but Scott had never told him the guy was a Hale Emissary. And Scott experienced physical pain if he didn’t tell Stiles every single detail of his life.

Then there was nothing for years, no hint of the Hales or where they’d gone, until that speeding ticket in Derek’s name issued from a precinct three counties over. A year goes by, and the Hale property is signed over to Derek. Construction permits are issued for the house and surrounding lands in Derek’s name. Then four months ago, Talia Hale is given power of attorney over Derek’s estate, which is odd because with Betas all property is automatically reverted to their Alpha anyway. But if Derek was an Alpha by then, then any transference of rights or property should have gone to his second. Werewolf law hadn’t changed much in hundreds of years, and in most cases, pack hierarchy made it simpler to sort out than human laws. There are no legal records of Derek reregistering as an Alpha. There are no details as to why Talia would need to claim power of attorney.

What there is, the final thing he had found and the thing that set him most on edge, was a blanket restraining order against every Argent and known Argent associate for the entire Hale pack as of three months ago. Jesus, Stiles can’t even begin to imagine the kind of money and influence it would take to pull something like that off, and if the dates were correct, in less than a week. Talia had wanted her pack protected from the only known hunters in the state and she’d wanted it fast.

oOo

“Hey dad, did you ever know the Hales?”

Stiles had been sitting next to his father, half watching the game, doing his best impersonation of casual while waiting for an opening to bring up the Hales. The commercial about a clothing line for werewolves that wouldn’t tear no matter how much you shifted had been a perfect in. Stiles snorted at the wolves on the screen, shifting to Beta and back again with a look of surprised delight at the continued integrity of their clothing, like spandex was a strange new magic.

Tear-away pants, Stiles thought. Like basketball players wore, but for regular clothing. He should write that down, that was a money-maker right there. But then he thought of high school and what might happen if students showed up in break-away clothing. And that right there was probably why it hadn’t ever been invented.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you want me to answer your question or…..?”

“Hales! Yes, sorry. That commercial was so stupid I think my brain shut down for a second. Did you know them, when they lived here?”

His dad chuckled and looked back at the screen, groaning at the umpire before shrugging.

“Officially, yeah. There were meetings a few times a year with their Alpha to go over any issues, reinstate territory boundaries and all that. Didn’t really know them socially, they kept to themselves a lot but I ran into a few of them now and then. They were always friendly, but your mom used to know Talia a little better, did PTA stuff with her and always asked about the kids. They always had a ton of them running around out there.”

Stiles bit his lip. _Did you know Derek_ , he wanted to ask, but there was something else his father had said that peaked his interest.

“Reinstate boundaries? I thought they just owned the land. That’s why there’s all those ‘keep out’ signs all over the Preserve. Or so I’ve heard. Not that I’ve…..seen…..them.”

His father sighed under the weight of the knowledge that he would have to have yet another stern conversation with his son about trespassing. It was already part of their regular rotation of ‘conversations’ the Sheriff was forced to have with Stiles on alternating weeks depending on the circumstances. But he didn’t seem to be too interested in doing it tonight.

“Territories change all the time, new packs take over or branch off. Sometimes peacefully, sometimes not. We don’t interfere as long as it stays within their community. But packs have to keep the records up to date, keep the county informed, otherwise they forfeit the land.”

“But they’re gone now.” Stiles wondered why he hadn’t seen that in his research. Maybe because he hadn’t thought to look for it. “They’ve been gone for years. Does that mean the Preserve doesn’t belong to them anymore?”

“No, it’s all still theirs. And they aren't technically gone. This whole area is littered with Hale territories, and as far as I know, Talia moved the pack to an adjoining one to assist with some sort of sacred family duty or other, who knows with wolves. But she's never missed a deadline. Came in with a whole bunch of them last time. That was about…..three, four months ago?"

" _What?!_ " Stiles all but yells, saved by the fact someone on his father's team decided to do something idiotic at just the right moment, causing the Sheriff to scream the exact same thing. After pretending to curse out whoever this Ramirez guy was, Stiles waited a beat before steering the conversation back on course. "I had no idea they'd been coming back here. How do the town gossips miss the entire Hale pack descending on City Hall?"

His father gave him a knowing side eye, "They wouldn't, but it wasn't the whole pack. If I remember, it was just Talia and her second with a few of her Betas. Didn't hang out to chat either, signed the papers and left.”

“You, uh…..you remember-- were you there? Did you, like, know them all?” 

“Why all these questions?” His father sounded more amused than suspicious.

“Oh…we’re covering the impact of the Civil War on werewolf packs in History class and it just got me thinking that I’ve never properly met a werewolf.”

This was the truth at least. There wasn’t a single thing proper about the way he’d met Derek.

“Well, let me see. One…two…three…yeah, there were five of them. Her oldest, I think her name’s Lauren, or Laura, is her second. Spitting image of her mother, looked about ready to pop with those twins she was carrying. Then there was her son, Derek. He’s grown up to be a real handsome fellow, shy though. Not that I blame him…” His dad mummers to himself, giving Stiles a startled look when he realized he’d spoken that last part out loud. “And then three kids, your age. Two boys and a real firecracker of a girl.”

“The girl, what’d she look like, dark hair, green eyes, anger problem bordering on psychotic?”

“What? No, she was blonde, very…..blonde.” His dad gestures in a way that Stiles interprets as _well endowed_. “A little too friendly with the clerk, if you ask me and way too much makeup for a girl her age. And too much…..hair.” _Cleavage_ , Stiles knows how to translate embarrassed father.

“But what about Derek? The uh….the son. What was he like?”

“You know what, I’ve had a long day and it’s a school night for you. I think it’s time for bed.”

He stands abruptly and strides out of the room, the game screaming from the TV, tied at the bottom of the ninth.


	5. Chapter 5

When Derek didn’t show that night, or the next day, or the following night, Stiles wasn’t able to shrug it off the same as he had last time. He felt anxious, jittery, his stomach roiling and his skin too tight. He couldn’t go another night lying awake, staring at an open window and waiting and worrying and waiting until dawn came. He went online, he printed a map of the Preserve, he filled a backpack with every supply he could think of and texted his dad, working the night shift, that he was sleeping over Scott’s.

This time, when he drove out to the woods, he managed to find the road to the Hale house and took it as far as he dared. He didn’t want to spook Derek if he was holed up out there. He had fresh batteries in his flashlight and more in his pack, but the beam did little to illuminate the heavy curtain of night hung round him.

When a howl pierced the air, Stiles was so relieved he let out a shuddery laugh, running towards the sound before skidding to a stop, his better judgement kicking in. He waited, listening.  

Another howl. More human this time, mournful and desperate. It’s Derek, Stiles knows from the way his whole body pulls taut in response.

When the road curves, the trees thinning, Stiles stopped dead in his tracks. The Hale house, the spooky, abandoned mansion in the woods, was not at all the weed choked, sagging ruin he’d expected from all those many rumors Beacon Hills loved to deal out. It’s beautiful, and huge and completely pristine, with not one but two separate buildings under construction behind the main property. If his father hadn’t told him so the other night, seeing the house in this state would have been clue enough that the wolves had never really left- were, if fact, planning on returning.

Two things happened as he made his way up the drive. From the shadows at the side of the house, he watched the Camero take shape, parked haphazardly, the back end covered in mud.

Then a scream, a human scream of complete anguish rends the air. There’s silence after that, but Stiles can still hear it ringing through his ears, Derek screaming with all he has from somewhere inside the house.

Stiles only allows himself one second of panic, one ragged inhale and flailing of arms before he makes a move. Running over to the shell of one of the newer buildings, Stiles sweeps his flashlight over the grounds, looking for a 2x4, a discarded hammer, something. He finds a nice sturdy length of sawed off rebar, and that will do just fine.

Creeping around, the front door is locked, the windows, too, but there’s a back door leading into some sort of sun room that’s open and he slips in as quietly as he can. He’s not really sure what the plan is, or if he even has the skills to come up with something on the fly that will defeat an angry werewolf. Tiptoeing through the darkened house, Stiles can see that there are things knocked over, glass on the floor, streaks of mud and part of a bloody handprint wrapped around the door frame up ahead. There’s no other sound, there’s no way of telling where Derek might be in all these rooms. One after another, he paces the ground floor until he decides to try upstairs. There’s a smell of dust and wet earth that pervades every room, a staleness despite how ordered everything seems. Bedrooms, a whole winding hall of them, and each one empty. His flashlight catches on a door up ahead, opened a crack and specked with mud. Stiles turns off his light and tucks it into his pocket, gripping the rebar with both hands and using the tip to push open the door.

It’s a bedroom, or it had been. The furniture is still there, but everything has claw marks including the walls and the hardwood floors. In the corner, Stiles sees a figure, the outline of a shape huddled on the ground.

“Derek?” He whispers, but it doesn’t move. “Derek?” He gets closer, and the thin filtered moonlight is enough to realize it’s not a person. A mattress, on the floor, heaped in pillows and blankets and most of all clothing.

Stiles’ clothing.

His ruined red hoodie, his lacrosse uniform, tshirts and three of his most worn out boxers. There’s a hand towel from his bathroom and an old beanie he practically lived in last winter. There’s one of his pillows. It’s all heaped up in a circular mound, the center of which looks like it could very well fit the body of a curled up werewolf. Staring at it, Stiles’ eyes get hot with tears. This empty house with a missing pack, and Derek all alone looking for comfort, grasping at the first thing to come along- a pathetic human kid lost in the woods. He was angry now, furious. He wasn’t a werewolf, he wasn’t strong like that, but he was damn sure going to do what he could to save Derek.

There’s a banging sound, metal on metal coming from somewhere below him. Stiles pads back down the stairs, listens. There is was again. He follows the echo to a door tucked beneath the staircase that he’d missed on his previous sweep. It opens to a set of steep stone stairs winding down, down, down into the pitch black underbelly of the house.

Of course it does.

He’s afraid to use the flashlight, but more afraid not to, so he shines it carefully at the steps in front of him, careful not to let the beam swing wide. It’s instantly colder down here, water dripping from the bricks, his skin clammy. It’s two full rotations before the stairs end in a dirt floor, a long corridor stretching out with double rows of heavy metal doors, streaked red with bloody rust.

Of course.

Because why turn a subbasement into a nice, well-lit rec room, some vintage light fixtures, few couches, flat screen tv, maybe a wet bar, when you could have a murder basement? There were absolutely going to be hooks down here, big gnarly hooks hanging from chains. It was the must have accessory on every serial killer’s Pinterest board, he just hoped he wouldn’t find himself strung up on one.

There was light flickering against the wall all the way at the end. There was a sound, too, a constant, sharp kind of rolling rush of noise that only barely covered the clang of something heavy hitting concrete and the sharp bark of a voice whose words he couldn’t make out. Creeping in closer, Stiles listened with his whole body, almost falling back on his ass when a flash of blue lit up the hall followed by the sound of Derek howling in pain.

“Hey! Hey cut that out!” Another flash, another scream, and that was definitely the voice of Miss Bitch Car Thief.

Rounding the corner, Stiles found one last room, door opened wide and alight with candles and a battery powered lantern. He was hit head on with the smell of sweat and…and….lavender?

Dozens of candles in jars with twee floral labels lined the edges of the wall and all around a cage. A battle-scarred cage in the center of the floor, and inside, pacing with fangs and claws bared, was-

“Derek!” She snapped at him as he growled, pacing.

The girl had her back to Stiles, standing in front of the cage with one hand on her hip and the other holding a baton. The end sparked-- a cattle prod. Stiles crouched as low as he could get and peeked his head further in, still unseen.

The smell of lavender was so strong inside the room it made him gag, he could understand now why they hadn’t scented him. And the noise…..it was rain, thunder. A speaker hooked up to what he assumed was the girl’s phone, blasting the sound of rainstorms at full volume.

Stiles took a quick stock. On the table, next to the phone, was a key that looked about the right amount of medieval to open that cage. He couldn’t get to it without her seeing him, but if he could buy a few seconds, maybe he could get Derek free and let him take care of the girl. He knew it was a terrible plan, but what the hell else was he going to do? If he called his dad, the Argents would get involved, and that was almost unequivocally a worse scenario.

There was a second, not even that much, where Stiles had the rebar raised above his shoulder, ready to bring it crashing down on the girl’s skull with all his impressive, adolescent strength, and Derek saw him. The Alpha froze, then rushed for the bars, gripping them in both clawed hands and howling so loud he nearly dropped his weapon in favor of covering his ears. The girl was startled, too, and Stiles took that opportunity to swing down as hard as he could, feeling the sickening sensation of bone cracking all the way to his back teeth.

He tossed the bar to the ground with a clatter and dove for the key, scrambling to the cage and trying to get his shaking hands steady enough to fit it into the lock.

“I’m here, I’m here big guy.” Derek pressed himself up to the cage, pulling Stiles’ arm through the bars so he could sniff his way up, whining the whole time. Stiles tried to pull away, the lock was heavy and he needed both hands to get it open. “Derek, man, I’m gonna get you out, you just gotta let me—“

The force with which he was thrown backwards was so sudden, all the air left Stiles’ lungs in a rush and he didn’t even feel himself hit the floor until he was already lying across the room in a jumble.

“Oh my _God_ , you have got to be the dumbest fucking human on the _planet_!”

Stiles had to hand it to her, this girl had the end game villain look down cold. Blood streaked down her forehead and over her right cheek, matting her hair to the side of her head, her eyes glowed gold and she stood with her weight planted, ready to charge. The candlelight flickering sinister against her face, elongating the shadows of her claws. Derek charged the door of the cage, it rattled, but didn’t budge.

“I won’t let you kill him!” Stiles shouted at the same time the girl yelled, “Why do you refuse to stay rescued?!”

“What?” They both startled. “Wait-“ “Hang on-“ “Stop!”

The talking over each other was getting ridiculous. Stiles shook both hands, the girl’s claws receded, her eyes fading to green.

“Rescued?”

“Why would I kill him?”

“So you just want to torture him?” Stiles was still ready to fight her for Derek’s freedom, but the girl seemed to have lost all venom in her utter confusion.

“I’m not the one torturing him, dumbass!”

“I’m sorry, is this a spa then?” Stiles laughed sarcastically, “Were you just exfoliating him with that thing?” He pointed at the cattle prod lying on the ground behind her.

“I fucking hate teenagers.” She sighed, shoving a hand through her bloody hair. Derek charged the cage door again, this time knocking one of the hinges a little loose. “Cut it out!” She yelled at Derek, glaring.

“Are werewolves immortal now? You look like you’re barely old enough to drive.”

“Go home Stiles!”

His blood ran cold, “How do you know my name?”

Derek rammed the door again. “ _Stiles_ ,” he growled. The girl jut her thumb toward the wolf with a flat expression.

“It’s every five minutes with that.” She sighed. “Now will you please just leave?”

“I don’t think so, not until you let him go.”

“Are. You. Dense.” She overenunciated at him. “I put him in that cage to protect you!”

“Protect me?! You’ve done nothing but threaten my life!”

“I’m sorry what?”

_BANG_

The cage door lost a hinge, the last three still holding. “ _Stiles_ ,” Derek reached for him between the bars as far as his arm would stretch.

“ _’Tell me where he is_ _or else_ ’, ‘ _you’re running out of time to save your own ass’_ , any of that ring a bell?”

“As in _’Or else’_ he’s going to come after you! I meant ‘Save your own ass’ literally!”

“Lady, you need to work on your clarity of phrasing before you consider ‘rescuing’ people in the future because you seriously suck at it!”

This dungeon ambiance was really going to waste with all the bickering.

“The only person I’m _really_ trying to help here is him,” She pointed at Derek who snapped at her finger. “I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to you, but I do care about what will happen to my brother if he rapes a minor!”

“Brother?” Stiles reels. “You’re his sister?”

“That’s the part you’re hung up on?!”

“You’re Cora.” Stiles took a few steps toward her and Derek lost it, shaking the bars and roaring at Cora as if she were the one advancing on Stiles. The door sounded about ready to lose another hinge. She dove for the prod, sparks flying as she jammed it into Derek’s side. The werewolf flew backwards with a howl, an acrid curl of smoke rising from his skin even as it healed. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

“Cora,” From his hands and knees, Derek panted, his voice thin and hoarse from screaming. “Get him out of here.”

“I’m trying! But he’s an even bigger dumbass than you!”

“Derek,” Stiles ran to the cage, crouching beside the bars and reaching a hand between them. Derek’s eyes were red again, that glazed, wild look seeping over his features. He scented the air and wheezed, huffed out a frustrated breath at the syrupy stench of lavender suffusing everything. He rammed the door once more, curling clawed fingers around the upper corner and pulling, pulling with all his strength until the metal began to wrap and bend, folding in with every vicious tug.

“Alright creampuff, time to go!” Cora hoisted Stiles off his feet, dragging him out of the room in a vice grip, a look of real panic on her face.

They’d made it halfway across the living room upstairs, Stiles arguing futility the whole way, when Derek finally got the door of the cage off and threw it across the room. It wasn’t the kind of sound you could mistake, nor could you mistake the sentiment behind the ear-splitting roar that followed. Both of them froze, eyeing each other before Cora slung Stiles over her shoulder like a sack of grain and ran at top speed for the front door, barreling through it with a flying kick that would have impressed Stiles mightily if he weren’t about to lose his organs through his nose.

The ground rushed beneath him, the sound of a car door unlocking, the sound of a freight train made of muscle and teeth and claws smashing its way up from the basement. Cora swung the Camero’s door open and threw her cargo bodily inside. His head hit the passenger window, Stiles groaned and rubbed the spot, but Cora was already shoving his legs out of the way and revving the engine, fishtailing around and peeling down the drive.

Trees flashed by the windows, too fast to be safe, but Cora seemed much more concerned with putting distance between them and the house.

“Goddamnit. Shit. Goddamnit.” Cora cursed with the sort of flat composure of the well and truly fucked. “He’s going to kill me. He’s going to actually kill me.” Low hanging branches pummeled the windshield, rocks pelting against the undercarriage. “You know what, I don’t want to be his second anymore. Fuck seniority, Boyd can have it.”

“What’s happened to him?” Stiles yelled over the roar of the engine. He couldn’t hear Derek behind them, but from the way Cora kept checking the rearview mirror, he was sure the wolf was in pursuit.

“You!” She pointed at him. “You stupid, fucking asshole! Why would you come out here?! Deaton was _this close_ to finding something that could help and now, if I somehow manage to live through the night, I’ll have to track him down and get him locked up all over again! He almost bit off my arm last time, do you know how much that fucking _hurts_?!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know you were trying to help him? Skulking around town screaming ‘Tell me where to find him!’ is sinister as shit, I thought you were trying to kill him because he somehow turned feral!”

“He’s _feral_ because Derek is a broody, self-hating, cocksucker that’s got his head too far up his own ass to listen to mom when she told him- she fucking TOLD HIM- something like this might happen if he didn’t get his shit together! And you! Your ass is so damn lucky he’s got a willpower of forged steel because any other wolf would have claimed you on the end of their knot by now!”

They turned hard onto the main road, smearing tracks of dirt along the asphalt.

“Your brother’s been popping out of the shadows to spray me with a _profane_ amount of come for the last few weeks. I think the claim has been pretty well staked.”

Cora looked like she was about to vomit, “Ugh, God, no to everything. I fucking hate you for making me put this into words that have to come out of my mouth, but, I can _smell_ what he’s done, and that’s not a claim. Here,” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, swerving a bit as she did, and tossing it into Stiles’ lap. “Look in my contacts and call Deaton, he’s gonna have to meet us at the clinic and he’d better have figured out a cure other than knotting a high schooler.”

Stiles, so wound up on adrenaline and fear and confusion, fumbled with her phone for another full block before his brain caught up.

“Wait- Cora stop!”

“Umm, no? I’m gonna go with no.” She sped up, running a red light on the vacant street.

“What do you mean _other_ than knotting? Are you telling me if I have sex with Derek, he’ll go back to normal?”

“Not sex, dipshit, I’m talking about _mating_. I’m talking about him knotting your jail bait ass and taking you as his _mate_. He should have manned up and started courting you the moment he realized who you were--”

“I’ll do it.” He barely realized he’d spoken when the words were out of his mouth.

The Camero screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Cora turned in her seat, staring at him, knuckles white on the steering wheel before a sound behind them caught her attention and she accelerated hard. “I don’t think you understand. Mating means binding yourself to an Alpha whose pack consists of nothing but shitty teenagers. It means tying yourself to my grumpy, emotionally constipated brother for _life_ , because if you hurt him I swear to God I will take my time and they will _never_ find your body.”

“Just tell me this,” Stiles hands were shaking, but his mind was clear. “Will it turn me? The whole….mating thing, cause I gotta tell you, I really don’t want to be a werewolf.”

For the first time, the perpetual anger Cora wore dissolved some, a startled softness that Stiles had a feeling was a rare look on her. “Are you serious?”

“Well…yeah. I’ve sorta grown attached to being human, even if it means I’ll never play first line in lacrosse, but I’m pretty sure I read somewhere it’s harder for wolves to get college scholarships because there’s a bias that thinks all packs are rich enough to pay for the full tuition. But I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking pack funds like that as the new guy and my Dad can’t really afford four years on his own, so I-”

“Oh my God, will you shut up for a second? I meant about mating with Derek! Why would you do that, you don’t even know him! Is it just because he’s good looking? Because let me tell you, werewolves aren’t immune to getting old and fat, it just happens slower.”

“I’m not saying that’s not a huge bonus, because you’d know I was lying, but there’s more to life than being really, really ridiculously good looking.” He got nothing. Did this girl not watch movies or was she morally opposed to fun? “Look, I don’t know how to explain it, but I _know_ that Derek is a good guy and he doesn’t deserve to live like this. Whatever I can do to help him, I’ll do it.”

They made it one more block, Deaton’s clinic visible just up the street, when Cora pulled the brake and did a 180 Stiles would have enjoyed a lot more if he’d been wearing a seatbelt.

“Get me my purse, it’s in the backseat.” Cora said as she sped back the way they’d come, cutting right to get closer to the edge of the Preserve. Stiles turned in his seat, found the black bag on the floor and hoisted it into her lap. Cora rummaged through it without slowing down or taking her eyes off the road.

“Here, you’ll need this.” She said as she shoved something into his hoodie pocket then leaned over him, opening the passenger door, slowing but not stopping completely. “Tuck and roll, bitch!” She yelled with some noticeable glee and shoved him out of the car.

Well he definitely rolled.

“Ow.” Stiles figured out which way was up and slowly got to his feet. Nothing felt broken, although he was going to have a bruise from landing on whatever Cora had put in his pocket. He fished it out. A small bottle of lube. Thoughtful, but it didn’t absolve her from pushing him out of a moving car.

Hobbling forward, Stiles wondered if she’d be able to hear his very explicit thoughts about her general character and moral disposition now that the taillights had disappeared from view. He looked around, getting his bearings. He was just inside the tree line of the Preserve, the road only a few yards to his left, the great black maul of werewolf country surrounding him from every other side. He knew the general direction of the Hale house, and was sure that if he just walked in a straight line, he’d have to run into it eventually. Right?

It was so much harder without any real light to guide the way, unseen twigs snapped beneath his feet, invisible roots and divots tripping him every third step. It was cold too, now that he was coming down from a killer adrenaline high, Stiles couldn’t stop shivering. He wrapped his arms around his body, wishing he’d been smart enough to bring a jacket when a branch whipped him straight in the face. Or rather, he’d been so caught up watching the ground in front of him that he’d walked right into it.

“Oh my fuck I _hate_ these woods!” Stiles batted at the branches, thrashing about until he was sure the tree had learned its lesson. When he looked up, two red eyes glowed from the shadows. “Hey Derek.” Greeting him as if they’d just run into one another in a coffee shop.

Derek took two steps from his cover of darkness, scented he air, and charged.


	6. Chapter 6

“You know, this is really emasculating.” Stiles stuttered out. The Hales seemed to have a real penchant for slinging him over their shoulder and taking off like he was incapable of walking. At least Derek was doing a better job of not jarring him up and down like a cocktail shaker, probably because he was clinging onto Stiles with both enormous, muscular arms as if afraid someone might take his prize away if he didn’t hold tight enough or run fast enough. And holy hell was he running fast, now he understood why Cora’d felt the need to floor it. Derek had scooped him up what felt like _seconds_ ago and they’d just passed the jeep, which meant they had already made it back to the Hale house.

Stiles could hear Derek scenting the air, but he didn’t slow down, barreled right thorough the smashed front door and up the stairs. But when they got to Derek’s room, the Alpha calmed, paused, breath heaving, before striding over to his nest on the floor and gently laying Stiles down. He backed off to prowl the perimeter of the room on all fours, scenting the widows, the hallway, closing the door and barricading it with a clawed up dresser. Not that it was large enough that Stiles couldn’t move it on his own, or that a determined soul on the other side of the door, perhaps a bitchy werewolf sister who had some yet-unthought-of payback coming to her, couldn’t shove it out of the way if they really wanted to get in. But Stiles was positive Cora wanted no part of her brother’s sacred werewolf mating rites, or whatever was about to happen, and besides, he could appreciate the general sentiment behind Derek’s action.

In a second, Derek was on him, sweaty, filthy from possibly days in that cage, the healed over burns from the prod remaining as round smears of ash. He dove right into scenting all the dark fragrant joints of Stiles’ body, pawing at him, maneuvering him so that he could get at the ripe, needy scent coming off the boy beneath him. And Stiles, for all his normal verbosity, went lax and quiet with flood of relief from having Derek warm and whole in his arms, of knowing that they were safe in this tiny shut off corner and that soon Derek would be better. Stiles could make him better and the thought made him unbearably grateful. He arched into the touches, the nose burrowing into his sides and the lips chasing, responding instinctively when Derek’s face grew closer to his by drawing the man into a prolonged kiss.

They hadn’t kissed before, Stiles was sure they hadn’t. No, he’d remember this, the surprised pause before Derek melted and rushed at him like a tide, tongue delving hungry and leaving no sweetness unexplored. He dragged Stiles up into his lap, wound the thick bands of his arms around Stiles’ slim torso and sat him down on the iron brand of his erection, snug between Stiles’ legs, the heat of it seeping through the material of his jeans. Burying his hands in Derek’s hair, Stiles rode down on Derek’s cock, moaned into his mouth and did his best to keep up with the pace. He was overheated, dizzy from the lack of air being given to him, from the crazed way Derek seemed to want to devour him whole that banked Stiles’ own desire so high he thought he might crack in two.

“Derek,” he croaked out, head dropping back when Derek moved on to refresh the marks he’d previously left. And then Stiles was tumbling backwards, cold and confused as Derek rocketed back, slamming himself into the far wall. “Derek? What’s wrong?”

With his back pressed flat against the wall, Derek punched both clawed hands into the dry wall, as if anchoring himself in place. “….claim…you…”

Stiles stared up at him from the nest, “Uh…yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

Derek shook his head like a determined toddler and refused to budge. “ _NO_!”

“ _Yes Derek_ ,” he shouted, sarcastic but earnest. “You need to claim me so you can get better and I need you to claim me because you’ve been rubbing that Alpha dick of yours all over me for weeks now but have yet to put it in me and if I don’t get knotted and filled to the brim with your come I swear to god I’m going to turn feral, too, and attack you!”

He wasn’t sure if Derek could even understand everything he’d said, but he did know one thing that would get Derek moving and he wasn’t above playing dirty. Without getting any closer, because he wasn’t sure if Derek would try to bolt, Stiles stood and slowly, deliberately undressed himself, scattering his clothes so that they added to the nest, the whole time staring Derek down with an expression that said _Well, what are you going to do about it?_ Red eyes glowed back at him, a subsonic growl he could feel coming up through the floorboards, but still the wolf didn’t move. Stiles dropped down, fished through his pockets to find the lube and drizzled it over his fingers.

“Come on,” His voice hitched as he pushed one long finger inside himself without any hesitation. “You just gonna stand there and watch me suffer, or are you gonna give your mate what he needs?” Two more fingers joined and Stiles grunted, but he needed all the stretch he could get. Shifting on his knees, Stiles began to ride his own hand, gasping, reaching out for Derek.

It was frightening how quickly it worked, Derek falling to his hands and knees like his strings had been cut. He scrabbled over and scented the air all around Stiles’ body, circling him before drawing up in front of him, whining as he took the boy’s face in his large hands.

“My Stiles?” He asked, timid and hopeful and holy shit now Stiles knew what it felt like to have your heart _break_ for someone else.

“Yeah, Derek. Yours. I want you.”

A whine, and then Stiles was being hauled into Derek’s lap, the man’s mouth all over him, lips and blunt teeth and a flat tongue that dragged over everything with eager hunger that was undecided which it wanted more: to taste every supple inch, or to bathe Stiles in his scent. Stiles continued to finger himself open, but it was difficult with Derek clinging to him, and when his fingers slipped free, Derek’s were right there, pushing two into the wet clutch of Stiles’ hole, so much larger than his own.

Moaning, Stiles felt around the floor until he found the bottle, squirted more lube blindly onto Derek’s fingers as they drove into him, the slippery mess of it squelching between his cheeks. He grabbed Derek’s hand, folded another of the man’s fingers in tight and worked it into himself with the others. Oh God it was so good, so raw burning good that Stiles forgot for a moment that there was anything else on offer other than these wonderful, magical fingers working tirelessly up into him.

But then he felt it, Derek’s cock rubbing against the cut of his thigh and good lord, that was-

“Oh hell, your knot,” Stiles gasped, pushing back a bit so he could look between them. On average, Derek’s cock was nothing short of magnificent. The veiny girth of it jut up _inches_ above his own where they rubbed against each other. But below the tight red flush of the swollen head and the substantial shaft, a swell of purpling flesh that grew even as Stiles watched it. “We don’t have much time, do we? Fuck I don’t even know how that’s gonna fit but I just have to…wait…let me…”

Stiles slid off Derek’s lap, off his fingers and scooted around until he was crouched on his knees with a breathtaking amount of Alpha cock swaying in his face. His mouth watered, he had been fantasizing about this exact thing for much longer than he’d known Derek and having it be this Alpha, his Alpha, made him half mad for it. Without teasing, he grabbed a steady hold on Derek and wrapped as much of his mouth around that knot as he could and suckled at it. It was blistering hot against his lips, he was going to feel that heat when it was inside him, feel the way it pulsed with gathering blood like it was alive. Derek howled above him, but it was a decidedly human sound, in fact all the panting, the growling, the little whimpers as Stiles worked his mouth over Derek’s erection and back down on that knot, sounded about as human as Stiles had ever heard him. And he fucking loved it, he wanted to break through, work open the cracks until he could pull Derek out of whatever madness had captured him with his body and his will.

But there was only so much that Derek could take, apparently, and he’d officially reached the end of his not-currently-mating-Stiles patience. With a toothy snarl, Derek manhandled Stiles onto his back-- and there was never going to be a point in time where a move like that didn’t have Stiles gagging for it.

“Wait!” His voice reedy, barely more than a hiss. “Gotta…” It took the last of the lube to fully coat Derek’s cock, and when he was done, Stiles had to take moment to admire the view because sweet baby Moses, Derek looked like some kind of magnificent fever dream. Perched up tall on his knees, massive thighs flexing, drawing up to the prominence of his enormous Alpha cock that shown like a dangerous beacon in the meager light. Derek’s abs contracted with his heavy breathing, the dark swirls of hair on his belly, his chest, up his powerful arms, making Stiles dizzy with the sight of this apex predator that was about to mate him. _Him_. Stiles liked himself just fine- scratch that, he was fucking awesome- but he still had no real idea why Derek had chosen him of all people. Not that he would ever turn it down.

“Derek,” He spread his thighs and lay back, as clear an invitation as he could make without pointing directly, with great enthusiasm, between his legs. Not that Derek needed more detailed encouragement. He pressed Stiles further into the floor, nudging his side to turn him over until Stiles stopped him with a hand to his chest, legs wrapping around Derek’s waist. “No, like this. God, you’ve got to let me see you when we do this.”

Derek watched him for a moment, unfathomable red eyes looking for something Stiles couldn’t guess at, reluctance maybe? Dishonesty? Whatever it was, a few quiet puffs of air through his nose and Derek was taking Stiles hips in his hands, hitching a leg higher and all but challenging Stiles to look away as he began to press in. He didn’t rush, which Stiles had almost expected him to do, just coiled in tight and bore his whole weight down to the point where they joined at a slow, insistent pace. And Stiles was mentally, if not physically, prepared for pain, a lot of pain. He breathed and relaxed and thought about flowers unfolding to the sun and all that crap, reminded himself that they’d just made sure he was good and stretched, but that first inch still felt like it would tear him in half. He made some sort of sound, he wasn’t sure, too busy doing his best to stay as still as he could and not push away from the terrible burn.

And then the pain was gone.

Totally gone, replaced by a woozy ache that didn’t dampen the remaining sensation of Derek still forcing a space for himself deep inside Stiles’ body. He looked down between them and saw the snaking black lines scrawling up both of Derek’s arms. His brain would usually respond to a sight such as this with details, facts, a catalogue of salient points shuffling as fast as his ADD could manage, but even this affliction felt dragged out of him by Derek’s miraculous, pain siphoning magic. Now all there was left was the glorious stretch as he was filled so completely. God, Derek was everywhere, so deep inside him he could barely breathe, a wall of muscle surrounding him, pinning him down, mouth and hands and cock, rocking in short little jabs as if proving a point. And Stiles agreed, he accepted, he sobbed, bore his neck and wanted nothing more in that moment then to find a way to open wider, take as much of Derek inside of him as he possibly could.

“More….more….more…” Stiles chanted, totally unaware he was speaking. Derek grunted and shoved in harder, laid out his claim in longer strokes that rubbed Stiles _every perfect place please God don’t stop Derek more Derek fuck me fuck me……._

The knot was catching now, a little further every time and ready to snap into place with the ease of all that lube if Derek would just give it to him a little harder. Stiles writhed, hands clawing at Derek’s back as he begged for it, shameless and close to tears, needing so badly to come but unwilling to do so until he was knotted. He wasn’t sure why it had to be that way, his brain was officially offline and whatever instinct remained screamed at him to take that knot so he could finally come on his Alpha’s cock the way he was supposed to. With a snarl to match one of Derek’s own, Stiles reared up and bit Derek’s neck hard, hard enough that the impression of his teeth lasted more than a few seconds before healing. Derek roared, wrapped his large hands around Stiles’ shoulders and slammed his knot all the way in, locking them together as he came, that insane torrent of Alpha seed that Stiles had witnessed many times now filling him, flooding him until he could feel the sloshing weight of it distend the soft swell of his belly. Derek’s knot was still growing, wider and wider, it was so goddamned much Stiles’ eyes rolled back as he was helpless to do anything other than follow Derek down, his own orgasm pulsing between them. Knot and cock and come and Derek’s teeth at his neck and body nearly crushing him, owning him from every side, he’d never felt anything like it, his whole being seizing up and locking onto this man that he wanted so much he stopped breathing and spots danced in his vision.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, more likely his body simply decided to shut down to make sure he hadn’t actually died from coming so unnaturally hard. When he blinked his eyes open, Derek was still on top of him, gently licking the come from Stiles’ chest. He was still deep inside Stiles, though the knot was shrinking and Stiles could feel the warm gush of Derek’s come sliding out of him.

“Derek,” he murmured, sleepy, smiling. But when Derek pulled out of him, taking away that comforting stretch that his body already needed like air, his face scrunched up and he whimpered, “No.” He pleaded, needing more, needing Derek. With a low grumbling purr, Derek flipped Stiles over and shoved back in, already hard again and pistoning smoothly into Stiles’ relaxed, come slick hole. And this time when he knotted Stiles, he didn’t need to be coaxed. Fucked into his mate until that first catch and then locked them together with a determined thrust of his hips, filling him again, licking at Stiles mouth as he came on his knot once more like a mate should.

This time, when Stiles fell asleep, it was after some effort not to. Derek’s eyes were green and soft, his lips ruddy as he kissed Stiles and hushed him to sleep, hips still working his knot deeper into Stiles with the last sluggish pulls of his come. He was smiling at Stiles, looking just as sex drunk as Stiles was feeling, nuzzling into him until Stiles had no choice but to fall into safe, comforting blackness.

oOo

He wasn’t expecting to wake up alone. He really, really wasn’t, not after the way Derek had smiled at him, held him close and made him feel like the whole goddamned world was a splendid new adventure for them to explore and all that wretched love-struck shit. He was tucked into the blankets, a bottle of water and a tray of cold food waiting on the floor beside him enough evidence that Derek was most likely himself again, but the man was nowhere to be found. Not in any of the rooms, not the basement, and he could honestly say that daylight did little to alleviate the murder vibe of that place.

He called for him all over the house, the grounds, only going so far into the woods that he could find the way back, which he did while a granite knot sunk from his throat to his belly. He refused to cry. It would be easier to get angry if he was in pain, if what they did last night remained as an insistent sting, a bruised hurt at his sensitive core, but whatever werewolf magic Derek had used still sang through him, leaving his whole body thrumming with a sweet, warm ache. Right now he hated it, hated that Derek had left him food and water and mystical pain meds and left him there as if that was enough of a thank you.

Stiles trudged back up the stairs to Derek’s room, but when he got there he realized he had nothing to collect. He was already dressed, and his things were still in the jeep. Staring at the mound of his pilfered clothing, Stiles grit his teeth, what was he going to do, take this stuff with him? Wash it, fold it and then wear it again someday? He didn’t think he had a single day ahead of him that wouldn’t be filled with thoughts of Derek, wearing that red hoodie on top of it would likely give him a nervous breakdown.

It was dawn, and his father had worked late last night, so sneaking into the house was depressingly easy. He wasn’t sure why, but he almost wished he’d find his father sitting on the couch in his bathrobe, furious and disappointed and demanding answers. At least then he could tell someone, he would have an excuse for tears, for clinging to a sympathetic body and sobbing that he’d never know he could feel so alone and so deeply, profoundly used.

Stiles sat on his bed, staring off into space until he heard his father moving about in his room. He waited until his dad went downstairs to head into the bathroom, shower quickly and thoroughly and get dressed for school.

“You’re up early. Got plans with Scott?”

Stiles looked around the kitchen, trying to remember how breakfast was supposed to work.

“What? No, I think Allison’s giving him a ride, but I might want to see if he wants to come over after school if that’s ok.”

His dad gave him an amused look. “Stiles, it’s Saturday.”

“Oh.”

“You ok?” A touch of worry melting the edges of his smile. Stiles really didn’t want that, he didn’t know if the dam would hold if he started talking.

“Yeah! Super. Fine, just stayed up too late last night and forgot to turn off my alarm. Probably just go back to sleep after you leave.”

“Alright, well, stay out of trouble and I’ll see you for dinner.”

Left alone, Stiles wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He stared at his computer screen, for once confounded by what to ask Google. He scrolled his phone, fingers absently pressing into the purple mark hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. When it buzzed and rang in his hand, Stiles dropped it under his bed in shock. He cursed and crawled after it, answering without looking at the number.

“Stiles?”

“Oh, hey Louise,” he greeted the woman on the other end. She had been one of the receptionists there since Stiles was a child. “Did my dad forget his lunch again?”

“No,” her voice sounded tight, and Stiles’ heart rate spiked. “I need you to come down to the station. Right now.”

“What is it, is my dad ok? What happened?”

“Stiles, please get down here as soon as you can.”

And then she hung up, and Stiles thought he would vomit all over the carpet. The whole way over his hands shook so much he was in real danger of veering into oncoming traffic. God his dad was dead, he knew it. He’d been waiting for this call every day since his mom died even if he’d never wanted to admit it.

_OhGodOhGodOhGod……_

Rushing through the doors, Stiles skidded to a halt in front of Louise’s desk. “Was he shot? Is he at the hospital?! Which hospital?! Are-“

“Stiles,” His father strode down the hall, intact and looking about ready to tear a grown man in half.

“I didn’t do it!” Stiles yelped automatically and his father stopped short, a wash of soft pain molding his features.

“I know you didn’t,” he murmured, drawing Stiles into a long hug that was almost as frightening as thinking he’d been dead. “Come with me.”

He led Stiles down the florescent lit hall to a door with a single security window. The Sheriff didn’t take his hand off Stiles’ shoulder even as he pointed inside.

“Do you know that man?”

Stiles peered inside and his stomach dropped.

Sitting at the interrogation table, his head in his hands as if the world were dying, was Derek.

Derek.

In a clean set of clothes. In _shoes_. And he looked like absolute shit but he still looked amazing to Stiles and he hated himself just a little that all he wanted to do was run in there and find out if he was ok and hug him and-

“Stiles? You’re not in any trouble, no matter what you tell me. And I can swear to God that that man won’t ever hurt you again.” His father sounded like he was ready to break rocks with his teeth.

“Ummm….what?”

“Let’s take this slow, ok son? Do you know that man in there?”

“Yeeaaah, it’s Derek Hale. What’s going on? Is he ok?”

“That’s all I need for now. I’m going to have one of the other officers ask you a few questions, just so we get a clear picture of what he did to you. I swear I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about? Why is Derek…….”

In one terrible moment of clarity, Stiles translated the look on his father’s face.

“Oh shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I like cliffhangers!


	7. Chapter 7

It was a heavy door, but Stiles managed to throw it open with sufficient drama, deeply gratified by the look of shock on Derek’s face.

“What did you tell my dad!?!”

“The truth.”

And dear Lord, Derek could do haunted devastation like nobody’s business. The urge to immediately throw himself on Derek like a blanket and shield him from the world rocked over Stiles in an unwelcome wave.

“Mr. Hale has turned himself in for…..sexual assault.” Stiles didn’t need to see his father behind him to know that the man deeply wished they weren’t in the station so he might have an opportunity to unholster his gun.

“Oh my God, it’s not sexual assault if I was a willing, enthusiastic participant that gave verbal consent!” Stiles shouted at Derek. “Why are you so goddamned dramatic?! Why couldn’t you have just stuck around this morning for the awkward conversation and missing socks like a normal person?!”

Derek was looking at him like a child whose favorite toy had just been ripped from its hands.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you couldn’t have wanted that.”

“I’m sorry, did the police kick in the door to your house? Do you have an ass full of wolfsbane bullets right now? No? Because that’s what would happen to someone who did something to me I didn’t want! I _wanted_ to be with you, to be there for you when you….needed me. And, yes, I really, really wanted to fu-- have sex you Derek.”

“Stiles…” His father’s voice sounded worryingly strangled, but he couldn’t face him right now.

“YOU’RE A MINOR!” Derek all but roared, eyes tinting red but fading fast. He turned in his seat, slumping down and staring at the over worn table top. “Even if you did want it, it’s still statutory rape. I still deserve to be punished.”

And Stiles, so frustratingly angry that he was being forced to do this _here_ , in front of this _father_ of all the fucking places with the fucking surveillance cameras and that goddamn Barbara was totally listening at the door and self-sacrificing cuntbag wolves…..he snatched up the manila file folder that lay innocuously on the table and whapped Derek over the head with it twice, took a calming breath, then whapped him once more for good measure.

The look of pure incredulity on the Alpha’s face was worth it.

“I’m eighteen you navel gazing twat! In fact, I’ll be nineteen in less than a month! And just to make sure that you never, ever forget my birthday, I’m making you take me out to dinner! A really fucking expensive one, and not one of those shitty expensive steakhouse places, but somewhere that serves caviar! And sea urchins! I’ve never tried either of those and I probably won’t like them, but you’re going to take me there anyway and you’re going to pay for it because right now I deserve it!”

“Stiles,” His dad tried to cut in again but Derek wasn’t done.

“But you’re in high school.” As if he was unwilling to accept that Stiles was not somehow off limits.

“I’m a _senior_ in high school who was held back a year due to ADD and my mom passing away. Which you would have known if you’d given me like an hour, thirty minutes tops, to check off all the boring first date intro stuff!”

The brief silence that follows is broken by Stiles, naturally, smacking Derek across the head one last time with the folder.

“I’ll just take this.” The Sheriff gingerly plucks the file from Stiles’ hand like it’s a loaded gun. “So, are we going to talk about what this is? I’m still feeling inclined to arrest him.”

“He’s my boyfriend dad, and we talked about this a long time ago that if I ever had a boyfriend you weren’t allowed to arrest them just to scare them off.”

“I have questions.” In full cop mode.

“Fine,” Stiles, facing his dad with both hands on his hips, stands beside Derek who looks completely shell shocked.

“How do you know Derek? He’s older than you.”

“Not by much.” Stiles shot back. “I know Cora Hale.” This wasn’t exactly a lie, it just wasn’t the answer to his father’s question, but Stiles has been doing this dance for years.

“And you’ve been dating, secretly? For how long?”

“Not long, I met him after a party. Lydia’s party, you remember that? We sort of ran into each other afterwards and just started….seeing each other around town. I liked him, he liked me, we were never exactly dating, dating, but Derek was always pretty clear that he was interested in something more.”

“That more being sex?”

Derek made a strangled noise beside him. “Well, I mean, yes, but also a relationship. A…uh,…a serious relationship. And I only slept with him once, and only after it was clear he was in this for the long haul. The plan,” he side-eyed Derek and dared him to say otherwise. “Was to have him over for dinner, after we made it official. I would make pot roast, you would clean your guns in the living room, all the normal boyfriend meets the family stuff. But after a night of passionate love between two _consenting adults_ ,” It was his father’s turn to groan and burry his face behind a hand. “This weirdo got the wrong idea, freaked out and thought it might be a super great plan to come down here and get himself arrested.”

“Is this true?” The Sheriff turned his interrogative gaze on Derek.

“I-“ Derek looked between the Stillinskis, “Yes. But Sir, if I might add,” He rose to his feet, squaring off with the Sheriff who didn’t cow an inch when faced with the broad, intimidating frame of the Alpha. “He was right about my intentions. I would like to continue…dating….your son for as long as he’ll have me. The only thing I want to do is to care for him, protect him with my life, I swear to you.”

“Alright, alright,” Stiles shouldered Derek aside. “No need to enact a blood oath, it’s not even noon.”

“I don’t like this,” the Sheriff stated. “I don’t like that I had to find out about you two this way, and I don’t entirely like the fact that you are a new Alpha with a new pack to care for and you’re starting this when my son is about to head off to college. Don’t think I don’t know how possessive Alphas can get, the town still talks about that time some out-of-towner tried to take your mother’s parking spot at Target.”

“Dad, I’m going to college.”

But Derek and his father were too busy playing death glare chicken. “I would never try to keep him here, or stop him from going to whatever school he wanted to.”

“I’m right here guys.”

“I respect my son’s judgement, but you’re gonna have a ways to go after this little stunt you just pulled.”

“I’m pregnant guys. Did you know that?” They continued to ignore him.

“No stunt, if I thought I’d done anything harmful to your son, I would willingly turn myself over to you.”

“Well, that’s a mark in your favor then, I guess.” The Sheriff grunted, but he was pulling a full cowboy squint on Derek. Stiles hadn’t seen him do one of those in years.

“I got a tattoo, too. It says STYLIN’ across my stomach in Old English font, but, you know, tasteful.”

“So first things first, I expect you over for dinner at our house sometime this week.”

Derek nodded like he’d just been handed the launch codes with orders to fire.

“And then I want to meet your pack. On your territory. I assume you’re officially taking over the Hale land here in Beacon Hills so I’m letting you know right now that I will be involved in every step of that transition so that I can make sure the pack living here is healthy and stable enough for this town and for my son.”

“And I demand two horses and the finest of your goats for the hand of my first born!” Stiles declared in a rather spot on impression of his father.

“You have full rights to enter my territory whenever you wish.”

The Sheriff nodded, finally placated some by Derek’s blunt acceptance. “Then I guess you’re free to go.”

“Alright dad, out. I’m commandeering this interrogation room to yell at my boyfriend about proper morning after etiquette. You probably don’t want to be here if you’d ever like us to make eye contact again.”

Much to his amusement, the bulk of his father’s steely demeanor dissolved, a sheepish tint coloring his cheeks as he grumbled something of an excuse before hustling out of the room.

Turning to face Derek, Stiles took him in, took in the clear eyes and straight back, muscled arms bulging when Derek crossed them in front of his chest, an intimidating looking posture, but Stiles was certain Derek just didn’t know what to do with his hands. The silence stretched out because Stiles had so many things to say, to ask, that he wasn’t sure where to start.

Derek did it for him.

“Boyfriend?”

“Well he’s got a bad ticker and you just waltzed in here saying you’d raped his son, so I think we better ease him into the whole mates thing, don’t ya think?”

“You- you don’t have to. Mates are…..you don’t know what it means.” Derek all but kicked an invisible rock with toe, hands shoving down into the pockets of his jeans. Man, this guy was ridiculous.

“First of all, we’re going to put a stop to this thing where you think you know better, because the evidence is in that you clearly don’t. You may be bigger and stronger and sexier than me, but I am absolutely smarter than you and you’re going to have to come to terms with that. I _know_ what mates means, I know that it means that as a human I could walk away but you can’t, but I also know the science on that is flawed because I _can’t_ walk away Derek, I don’t want to. You want me and I want you and you’re just going to have to live with the fact that this is happening.”

“You don’t _know_ me, I was an animal before, but as a person I’m…..I’m not easy to get along with. You don’t really know who I am, Stiles. Why would you want this?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “I know you, Derek. You may have been driven by your wolf side before, but animals can’t hide what they are. You protected me, you wanted me but you didn’t take anything until I wanted to give it. You fought yourself and your urges this whole time just because deep down you’re a good person and would never willingly hurt me. That sounds like some A+ mate material right there.”

Derek’s arms dropped to his sides, his hands twitched like he wanted to reach for Stiles but was afraid to.

“So you didn’t….you didn’t do that with me just to help me get better? Because you did, I’m me again because of you…..because….I….”

“Wow, you’re barely better at making sentences now than you were then. Yes, I mated you because Cora basically told me it was the sure-fire way to get you back. But!” He interjected when the curtain of blank resolve dropped over Derek’s features. “There basically isn’t a known set of circumstances where I wouldn’t want to sit on your knot and have your werewolf babies and live happily ever after as den mother to your pack if you had shown the slightest interest in me. I want both Derek, I want you to be well, _and_ I want to be your mate. It’s really not- whoa!”

His feet left the ground as Derek whirled him through the air and onto the table and suddenly Stiles was being kissed so thoroughly his body reacted the only way it knew how, legs wrapping around Derek’s hips and arms snaking around the solid slope of his shoulders.

“Oh God Stiles,” Derek groaned as he moved down to the tender spots on Stiles’ neck, mouthing at the marks there in a way that had Stiles considering he was going to need a whole lot more scarves from now on. “Wanted you so much, wanted to have you but I couldn’t….I didn’t know it would happen like this. I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever, just-” Stiles groaned at the heavy suction working over his collarbones. “You’re normal now, right? No more naked sex beast stalking the woods?”

“Only if you want me to.” He continued kissing Stiles everywhere he could reach, holding him tightly against him as if letting go would cause physical pain.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Stiles gasped, trying as hard as he could not to get distracted, but Derek wasn’t making it easy. “Why you went feral? Did hunters do that to you? How-“

“Later,” Derek growled, shoving a large hand up Stiles’ shirt to pluck at a peaked nipple.

Someone knocked at the window.

“Cram it Barbara, I’m working a perp here!” Stiles shouted over Derek’s shoulder, but he was already pushing away with a sigh. “I have to go, and I’m guessing you need time to get your house back in order.”

“I..I do.” Derek frowned, clearly unhappy at the prospect of leaving Stiles. “I need to secure my pack, I need to talk to Deaton and prepare things for them, for you. I need some time.”

“Yeah, yup. I’m sure you got a whole lot of unpaid bills to take care of after going full wolfman.” Stiles did his best to make it sound light. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. “But we’re not done, we need to talk about this, I expect answers, ok?”

“I,” Stiles could be wrong, but Derek looked distinctly embarrassed at the thought, but it was hard to tell under all that stubble. “It’s over. And it will never happen again.”

Stiles snorted, “Nice try.” He looked at the door, suddenly uncertain what would happen when he walked through it. “Do you still want to come over sometime? For dinner? I mean…whenever, or not. I don’t even know how to get ahold of you, do you even have a phone or did you, like, eat it or something?”

Derek was suddenly there, holding Stiles’ face in his hands and staring down with so much intensity Stiles though he might combust. “Tomorrow night, 7pm. I’ll be at your house for dinner. Do you really know how to make pot roast?”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed and Derek kissed him once, softly. “And my dad’s got a drawer full of wolfsbane bullets, too. It’s going to be so uncomfortable.”

“I look forward to it.”

oOo

Exactly as promised, Derek Hale knocked on the door of the Stillinski home at 7pm the next evening. He looked ready to stand before the firing squad, but he’d brought the Sherriff a bottle of excellent scotch and shook his hand firmly but not too firm, sniffed the air appreciatively and even attempted small talk.

To Stiles’ utter embarrassment, Derek and his father spent the entire meal verbally circling one another as if working out a peace treaty with lives in the balance. There were a lot of grunts, and pointed looks and decisive gesturing with the tip of a steak knife. But somewhere between Stiles bringing out dessert and clearing away the dishes while the other two men retired to the living room, they’d found some common ground and were practically friendly by the time he joined them, Derek straight backed on the couch, his father deeply reclined in his chair. Stiles had arrived just as they were talking about the old pack, about Derek’s mother and her new place taking over for another Hale Alpha in a territory up north.

“Aunt Madge is actually her great grand aunt from her mother’s side. Her pack is the largest of all the Hales’, but she was getting too old and a rival pack had been circling their borders for months. She knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand a direct attack, so she called in my mother. At the time, we were going through some….difficulties with the Argent family.” Derek looked over at Stiles.

“I remember.” The Sheriff said, his eyes going gentle and his shoulders relaxing a tiny bit more. Stiles remembered what his father had said, about Derek having good cause to be shy and wondered again what exactly had occurred all those years ago.

“My mother thought it might be a good reason to get away for a while. It was only supposed to be temporary, with two Alphas and our combined numbers, we could secure the territory and be back in a year. But the Feldon pack decided to fight. It was very long, and costly and……there are rules, but their Alpha was losing numbers and getting desperate, he attacked my sister who had just become pregnant. In a fight like this….it’s just not done. I lost it, and killed the Alpha even though it wasn’t my right.”

“You weren’t groomed to be the Alpha.” His father guessed. Or maybe knew, Stiles was beginning to suspect his father knew a lot more about the local werewolf culture than he let on.

“No,” Derek clenched his fists then quickly released them. “But it worked out, I guess. Aunt Madge ceded her pack and her lands to my mother, who ceded the Beacon Hills territory to me. Some of the younger Betas have already joined my pack, my sister Cora is my second. They’ll be moving back here soon, and I have a feeling one or two others from my mother’s pack that miss this place will wish to join them. It’s not a very large pack, and I’m still learning….”

“You’ll do fine son.” His father replied, practically paternal now that Derek had told his story. But it wasn’t everything, not nearly, and Stiles was vibrating out of his skin to ask more, but there was no way of doing that without cluing his father in that Derek had been wandering the woods feral for months. And he may have lapses in impulse control, but he wasn’t about to blow up this nascent acceptance of his new boyfriend after everything that had happened.

Derek, the utter bastard, sensed Stiles’ dilemma. “Dinner was delicious, thank you Stiles.” He stood and offered his hand to the Sheriff who rose and accepted. “And thank you for having me, Sir. I know I’ve caused some trouble here, but I want you to know that I plan on doing whatever it takes to make your son happy.”

“I hope so.” The Sheriff showed him to the door while Stiles grit his teeth at the chaste little kiss Derek landed on his cheek, once again foiled from having his questions answered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is guys, last chapter! And it's extra long this time as a thanks for being patient with my slow....slow....slow ass updates.

Derek disappeared. Again. But at least this time he had some idea where. His father mentioned that Derek had been down to the courthouse taking care of some paperwork. A neighbor mentioned that a new Hale Alpha had been clearing out the hardware store of practically everything. Scott barged into his room, whisper-shouting that Derek Hale had just come in to see Deaton, walking and talking like a normal person except for the fact that they’d kicked Scott out so they could conduct some secret meeting and did Stiles know that Derek was the new Beacon Hills Alpha? Stiles felt bad about that one for a moment, he hadn’t been keeping Scott up to date on his werewolf mate situation lately but in all honesty, looping Scott into the craziness of the last few days would have been more hassle than it was worth. It was always a long, protracted slog to get Scott to change his mind about someone once his opinion had been set, and Stiles had other things to worry about.

The whole town was buzzing with the news of Derek returning home as the new Alpha. Literally buzzing, now Stiles knew where that phrase came from. Everywhere he went, people were talking in excited clusters and they were all talking about the same thing. And it was _maddening_ because for the first time, everyone else in existence seemed to be running into Derek except Stiles. He’d wanted to give Derek time, he knew the man needed it, but it was all he could do not to hop in the jeep and head over to the Hale house himself just to see him. He missed him.

With some seriously spooky timing, Cora showed up at his front door the next day, her attitude just as sunny and delightful as ever.

“Ugh, god you still smell like him, don’t you ever shower? Give me your phone.” She reached around to yank it from Stiles’ back pocket, grunting in annoyance when she discovered it was locked. “Open it.”

“It’s good to see you, Cora, how are things? You’re looking well, the low simmering rage really puts color in your cheeks.”

Without looking up, Cora paused her typing to give him the finger.

“There,” she tossed the cell back, smirking when Stiles fumbled in a bid not to drop it. “Now you have everyone’s contact.”

“Everyone?” Stiles scrolled through his phone and noticed several names besides Cora’s that he didn’t recognize and one he did. “This is Derek’s number?”

“Um… _yeah_.” Her tone switching from sarcastic to flatly bored. She sighed, “As second to Alpha Derek Hale I am here to inform you that your presence is requested this Sunday at twelve o’clock at the Hale Manor.”

“The Hale _Manor_? It’s a manor now? Who is he Mr. Darcy?”

“More like Lord Greystoke,” Cora said without missing a beat. Stiles’ mouth hung open.

“Oh my god…….are you- like- _funny_? Does your family know you have a sense of humor or do you have to kill me now so that no one ever finds out?”

Cora’s slow grin made him feel exactly like a pinned rabbit, “They’re all going to be there you know, not just Derek’s pack, but mom’s, too. Time to meet the in-laws, so try to wear something that doesn’t have cartoon characters on it. See you there!”

oOo

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…” He was barely whispering but two more faces peeked out of the front window then disappeared.

The front and side yard of the most estimable Hale ‘manor’ was littered with cars. And not just cars, but multiple utility transport vehicles. There were mini vans and passenger vans and a mini charter bus and four separate RVs that looked bigger than most houses. Clearly managing volume was the name of the game here, and it made Derek’s tiny black sports car look like an aberration.

And he wasn’t a werewolf, but sitting out here in his ratty jeep, quietly having a small panic attack, Stiles could practically _sense_ the mass of people barely contained in that giant home.

Homes, really. Somehow, with the kind of money and authority that Stiles couldn’t even conceptualize, Derek had fixed up the main house, completely finished the second, and was close to done on the third if the boxes of large appliances sitting beside the garage door were any indication. In a week. Who gets contractors to finish their _lunch breaks_ in a week? Had he threatened to kill them? Probably at least one of them.

Stiles made it out of the jeep, but still needed a minute to work up the nerve to approach the front door. From the side of the house, Stiles noticed three little faces peering from around the corner, escapees that made it past what was clearly an order to stay away from the human freaking out in their yard until properly introduced.

“He smells scared.” One whispered loudly, a boy too young to gage how easily voices could travel.

“ _You_ smell scared,” A fractionally older boy goaded.

“Why doesn’t he move?” The younger boy asked, “We can’t have chicken fingers until he comes inside and I’m _starving_. Tell him to move.”

“Shut up, he’ll hear you! We’re not supposed to be here, do you want to get in trouble?”

“Why did Derek pick him? He smells weird.”

“He doesn’t smell weird, he just doesn’t smell like pack yet. And you’re not supposed to call him Derek, he’s Alpha now.”

“Nuh uh, he told me I didn’t hafta call him that. He _said_ I could call him Derek! Mitchy, didn’t he _say_?” The little one turned imploring eyes on the girl behind him who had been watching Stiles with silent scrutiny the whole time.

“Of course he did,” she offered, and the little boy shot a smug look at his other companion. “Because you’re little and you’re still learning about pack. Only the bigger people call him Alpha, like me.”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you!”

“No he won’t he’s human, they can’t hear like us.”

Stiles took some amusement in looking directly at them. All three children startled, the older two taking off the way they’d come, but the youngest straightened up, creeping out of his hiding spot, impulsively brave.

“You can come inside now. Derek wants to see you, like, _real_ bad and everybody’s pretty nice except for Amy ‘cause she never lets anyone play with her robot panda and we got chicken fingers with, like, three sauces but only one of those is the spicy kind. I don’t like spicy sauce. I like cupcakes and we have cupcakes, too, but they’re only for after lunch but if you don’t want a cupcake, can I have yours? Mom says if you an’ Derek let us be in your pack we can move here an’ I can go to the real school for Kindergarten and get my own pencil box with new crayons and a glue stick and red scissors and a red pencil sharpener ‘cause the teachers don’t want us t’use our claws in class. They call your mom if you do and then I don’t get to watch Clarence when it’s my TV turn.” By the time the kid took a breath, he was standing right up in Stiles’ space, adorably big eyes staring at him, small, grubby hand sneaking its way into Stiles’ as if he was already family. Just then the front door opened, Derek filling the frame, arms crossed, eyebrow raised at the both of them. Stiles didn’t let go of his new friend’s hand.

“Who is he and can I keep him.”

“Did your mother say you should be out here, Andre?” Derek admonished the boy, but there was no heat in it. Even so, Andre ducked further behind Stiles, shaking his head guiltily.

“I see what you’re doing here,” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek “Sending one of the cute ones out to soften me up so I’m not so completely terrified to meet your family. Well it worked. Thank you, buddy, I feel much better.” He smiled down at the little boy who lit up with delighted relief.

“Stiles said I can have his cupcake!” he shouted, darting up the porch steps and shoving past Derek into the house.

“Hey! That was never implied!”

Derek made his way over to Stiles slowly, as if expecting him to bolt at any second. “I’m sorry if he ambushed you, he can be really chatty when he gets going.”

“Are you kidding? It was like coming face to face with myself as a child. I feel like I should reassure his mother that it gets better, but she’d hear I was lying.”

“Would you like to come in now?” Derek smiled, but it was uncertain, just like the hand reaching tentatively for Stiles’ own, fingers carefully twining. “He wasn’t wrong, we do have chicken fingers.”

“That _is_ a hard offer to resist.” He said, sliding in closer. This was the moment where they would kiss, but instead Stiles found himself wrapping his arms around Derek’s middle, tucking into his body while Derek cradled his head and fit them together in a tight embrace. It was something Stiles hadn’t even known he’d needed so much, a brittle, anxious knot easing in his chest the moment they were together. God he could stay here forever, Derek smelled so good, he was so warm and big and safe feeling, and the world outside their cocoon was rapidly melting away. Derek tugged the collar of his shirt, growling when the fabric of the button-down wouldn’t stretch as far as he needed. Quick fingers popped open the top button so he could get a look at the fading bruise on the joint of Stiles’ neck, running his lips over it, pressing into it as if ready to bite. And Stiles was _so_ on board with that, mind wiped completely clean of where they were and who was gathered a few yards away. Without hesitation, he arched his neck further, a tiny pleading whimper slipping from his throat. Derek held him tighter, inhaling his scent, then letting him go.

“Shut up, Erica.” He grumbled, “I am not.” And Stiles needed a minute to redirect his brain.

“Wha- oh…” He blushed. “That is never not going to be weird.”

“The bedrooms are soundproofed, but most of the rest of the house is not.”

And it killed Stiles that he had an amazing comeback for that, but couldn’t say it for the same reason that apparently Derek’s whole goddamned family was listening in.

He fixed his shirt. “Alright big guy, lead the way.”

Understanding was one thing, but being faced with the reality of the situation was entirely another. There were _so many_ of them. A churning rush of happy faces and greetings and names he forgot the moment they were spoken because there was no discernable pause between one introduction and the next. Every room they entered revealed a similar scene, dozens of adults of every age taking over all available seating, a minimum of one mother nursing in the comfiest chair, some with tiny newborn bundles, other babies pawing at their mother’s face with playful chubby hands. There were children everywhere, herds of them tearing through the house or climbing the furniture in a game Stiles’ couldn’t possibly follow, the adults seemingly immune to the clamor, long since accepting defeat when they were so outnumbered. 

“Stiles,” A voice cut through the din, clear and firm. And every single wolf in the house went silent and still. “I’m so glad to meet you, may I give you a hug?”

The woman approaching him through a path in the crowd was tall and lovely and without question Derek’s mother. Stiles had heard enough about Talia over the years that he’d formed his own image of her, but it wasn’t at all the woman that was standing before him now with an open smile. She was dressed casually, fitted jeans and a soft, stylish tshirt. She was what his father would have called a very handsome woman, but most of her allure Stiles would attribute to the air of absolute command she carried with her. When she spoke, she expected those around her to listen, and they did. And Stiles was certain, from the assured way she moved, the visible strength that radiated from her, that this respect had been rightfully earned.

With a tiny nod and wide eyes, Stiles allowed himself to be drawn into the brief, motherly squeeze Talia wrapped him in. She even _smelled_ like power, if that was even possible to detect with his paltry human senses. He wasn’t even sure what that meant, but he felt like every other wolf in the room must feel, obediently waiting for her next word.

“Would you care to join me in the library for a moment? I’d love the chance to get to know you better.”

It was probably the most warmly gracious command Stiles had ever heard and he nodded, croaking out an embarrassingly terrified, “Sure!”

“The rest of you can go eat, the three of us will join you shortly.”

So at least Derek was coming with him, that was good, that was a relief. Stiles didn’t see the crashing tide of people descending on the food as he and Derek were lead away, but he could hear it and it made him at least a little glad that he was avoiding that chaos for the moment.

Striding though the downstairs halls, Stiles noticed how incredibly different the house looked now that it was fixed up, the furniture uncovered, everything clean and cheery and so unlike the sad, dreary shell Stiles had run through not so long ago. There were rooms he hadn’t even noticed before, and it was into one of these that Talia lead him, a cozy space of warm leather sofas and chairs, a long table at the center of scratched but lovingly polished wood, the walls that weren’t covered in shelves of books papered in a tasteful hunter green.

Talia took a seat on one of the club chairs, gesturing for Stiles and Derek to seat themselves on the couch.

“You have no idea how grateful I am for what you’ve done for my son.” She began, which made Stiles immediately turn red because what they were talking about here, in essence, was his willingness to get plowed by Derek.

“Ummmm…you’re welcome? This is weird.”

“We don’t have to talk about this now.” Derek interjected, looking just as uncomfortable as Stiles.

“Actually, you know what,” Stiles straightened up. “I have some questions.”

“Anything you wish to know about the pack I will offer you, you’re family now.” She smiled.

“Not about the pack, about Derek. About how this happened. I still don’t understand why he went feral like that and this guy’s been less than forthcoming.”

Talia looked genuinely taken aback. “You don’t know? But then why did you- Derek, didn’t you explain?”

“I was meaning to do it later,” Derek grumbled.

“Well guess what, hot stuff, later is now. I’m calling it in.” Stiles was struck with a sudden delight at having this conversation with Derek’s mother. Turnabout was fair fucking play if you asked Stiles, and if Derek thought for a minute he could assume Stiles’ age or inexperience with wolves meant he would be easy to keep in check, he bet on the wrong fucking horse. “I want to know everything.”

“Derek.” And _wow_. That was some nuclear level mom-shame coming off Talia. “This boy took you in, he didn’t give you to the hunters, though he had every right to. He mated with you of his own free will and he’s here meeting your pack which means he wishes to stay your mate. I think someone like that deserves honesty when they ask for it, despite your own embarrassment.”

“Yes Alpha,” Derek frowned, looking at his lap but seeking the comfort of Stiles’ hand in his, which his mate freely gave. Stiles had so much to learn from this woman. “I…..you….you’ve always been my mate.” He managed to admit, taking his sweet ass time to collect himself afterwards.

“Is that it? What does that even mean?” Stiles elbowed Derek when he remained quiet for too long.

“It means that……I’ve known for a long time…..that it’s always been you.”

“What my son is so eloquently trying to say is that, wolves, typically, know their mate immediately upon scenting them. But sometimes that first encounter does not always come at the most opportune time. Our drive for a mate is strong, but can be managed if it would in any way harm the intended.”

“It was the Sherriff. He- I could smell you on him when…...Kate…..”

“Derek has a cruel history with some of the local hunters, and one in particular tried to use him to take out her hatred of werewolves on our pack. Your father became involved when we were forced to call the police, and it was at that time that Derek caught your scent on the Sheriff.”

“That’s when I knew. But you were so young then.” Derek added. “I watched you once, riding your bike with a friend and you looked so impossibly young and happy and I was…..with the hunters and the lawyers and Aunt Madge calling for our help. It wasn’t the right time, I didn’t want to burden you with that knowledge, that a werewolf you’d never met before saw you as their mate.”

“Leaving here was a chance to take a break,” Talia continued, comfortably filling in Derek’s pauses. “Give Derek a chance to center himself again, and give you time to grow so that one day he could meet and court you properly.”

“But then I became the Alpha.” Derek sighed, as if his status were a burden he was still learning to shoulder.

“Yes, you did.” Talia hummed. “It wasn’t as we’d planned, but honestly things rarely are. It is a difficult thing, to claim the mantle of Alpha from a kill. In peaceful times, the power is given and received with love, the old Alpha passing on the leadership of a pack to the intended wolf, usually their second. A status taken in violence, especially into one who was not appropriately prepared to receive it, can be a terrible shock to the system. Emotions are heightened, instincts become almost impossibly loud. The best way to ease this is by quickly establishing a pack. His sister, and some of my Betas who were closest to Derek rallied around him, but he needed land, a territory, to settle the wolf inside.”

“You signed over the land to him, but that wasn’t enough, he needed to be on it.” Stiles deduced from what little details he’s scrapped together before.

“Very clever. Yes,” She agreed. “It’s not enough to hold the deed, a wolf must roam their land to know that it is their own.”

“You took him to the courthouse to sign the boundaries paperwork, to show him how it was done. But you didn’t tell my dad he was an Alpha yet. Nobody even knew you were back besides the people that were there that day.”

“That’s when it went to hell.” Derek scowled as he looked at Stiles, but it was clearly self-intended.

“I blame myself for more than a little share of it.” Talia said regretfully. “I should have known he was having trouble with the change, but Derek has always been masterful at suffering in silence, and when he told me he was fine, with everything going on I was a little too eager to believe him. I was careless, I thought it would be enough if we brought some of his new pack along, to support him. I’m afraid it wasn’t enough.”

“I smelled you again, on your father’s clothes and it was all I could do not to shift. Then we left and it was like suddenly I could smell you everywhere, on the wind. It had been years, but I could hear your voice, blocks away, getting closer, and the only thing I could think of was finding you. They barely managed to get me home.”

“I had thought it might best if we brought you two together right away, give Derek a chance to court you. That maybe with a pack and land and the opportunity for a normal interaction with his mate, the burden of his instincts would ease some.”

“Let me guess,“ Stiles interjected, “He pitched a self-sacrificing fit about my being too young even though he didn’t actually know how old I was. Right?” He turned on Derek. “You could have just accidentally on purpose bumped into me at a coffee shop and introduced yourself to find out if I was jailbait or not. And then maybe you could have asked me out on a date like a functioning adult. That would have worked out for you, Derek! Because- and I cannot state this strongly enough- I, Stiles Stillinski, first of his name, would have said yes to _anything_ you’d asked of me in a heartbeat. Phone number, pint of blood, social security number? All of it. You would have had more trouble getting me to stop following you around screaming ‘DIBS!’ at everyone in a ten-foot radius. The only reason I’m not doing it now is because these people are your family.”

“Oh Derek,” Talia cooed, deeply amused. “He’s wonderful.”

“ _Mom_ ,”

“But you’ve grasped the general shape of things,” Talia ignored her son. “He was being stubborn, but as one Alpha to the next, I had to respect his choice. We returned north, with no plans to hurry the transition, but he……it happened so fast. A few days back and he could barely control his shift, he became erratic, wild. I knew what was happening but by then it was too late to stop it. We tried to contain him but he broke free.”

“It was like….” The tips of Derek’s claws extended then slid back from the memory. “The farther away I got from you, the worse it became. You were miles away, and anything could happen to you, you could get hurt or someone else could….could….stake a claim and my wolf refused to let go until I had you. It was all I could think about. There’s this whole chunk of time that’s just a- a blur of running and hunting and searching for you like an animal until that night. Lost and roaming my territory and then you were there, like a gift, like you-“

“Hey,” Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, resting his head on the man’s muscular shoulder at his distress. “Everything’s fine now. We found each other, and I’m not going anywhere because you clearly can’t live without me.” Derek’s deep chuckle rumbling against the side of Stiles’ face. They held each other tighter.

oOo

After a time, Talia sent Derek off to the rest of the pack. It was clear he was unhappy about leaving his mate’s side, but he turned and slipped out of the door when Stiles gave him a reassuring wink. He was feeling much more comfortable around Talia. Wolves were still new, but moms he knew how to handle and at the end of the day, that’s all she was, a mother looking out for her son.

“It won’t be easy, he has so much to learn about running a pack. And now with you...Derek is….” She sighed. “Self-sacrificing is probably the most tactful way of putting it. He has never been forthright when he wanted something, and after Kate, he fears that anything he might want, anything that might make him happy, he doesn’t deserve. He’ll lock it away until it tears him apart, as you now well know. Be patient with him. Don’t let him close down. He’s a good person, he deserves to be happy and I think that, more than anyone, you could give him that.”

“Yeah,” Stiles felt his chest constrict, a little overwhelmed. “I want that. I wanna…do that.”

Way to be articulate Stiles. Talia squeezed his hand with a relieved smile all the same.

Lunch with an extended wolf pack turned out to be not so much a real live nature documentary as opposed to a high precision military operation. Stiles found himself passed along a rapidly moving line, a plate shoved in his hands and filled and then overfilled before he even got a handle on what room he was in. The yard was packed with picnic tables and fold out chairs and screaming children snaking through the maze of adults eating and laughing and yelling over one another. When he finally stumbled onto the lawn, dazed and self-conscious at all the eyes turning as one on him, Stiles began to wonder what it said that this was far more intimidating to him than running through the woods with a feral Alpha on his heels. God, it felt like lunch time on the first day of high school all over again, except this time, instead of Scott waving him over to the seat he’d saved him, Derek Hale strode down the center aisle, trailing wolf whistles and catcalls in his wake as he moved to rescue his mate.

“Come on,” he lowed into Stiles’ ear, one hand sneaking around his waist to pull him in close, the other taking Stiles’ plate with careful ease. “I want you to meet my sister.”

“Oh, I’ve met your sister.” Stiles snarked, painfully aware of every evaluating head that turned as they passed by. “And she is _delightful_.”

Derek stopped short and laughed. A loud, jovial peal that shook them both as he still hadn’t let go of Stiles. The entire company hushed, and behind them, a woman burst into quiet tears. Derek rolled his eyes, still grinning down at Stiles, and guided him over to a table occupied by Cora and another dark-haired woman that had to be the other sister.

“I’m sorry!” Stiles hissed at Derek as they sat down, panicked. “I wasn’t trying to insult your family! Are they insulted? I should have warned you, I get really sarcastic when I’m nervous.”

“No honey, they just haven’t heard Derek laugh in….in years.” The older woman patted Stiles’ hand.

“Aunt Gayle cries over everything.” Derek said as he tucked in close to Stiles’ side. “You get used to it. This is Laura, she’s my older sister and mom’s second. And, of course, you know Cora.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you.” Stiles snapped his fingers as if trying to recall. “From the uhhhh..…torture dungeon, right? How’s that going by the way, find anyone new to stalk?”

“Well I’ve tried,” Cora batted her eyes in a mockery of pitiful disappointment. “But it's just so hard to catch the scent of decent prey when every acre of Beacon Hills smells like the two of you rutting. Good job by the way Derek, very thorough. The family’s impressed.”

Stiles made a highly undignified sound, going pale when he looked around at the gathering and noticed more than a few amused looks turned their way.

“They’ll get used to that, too.” Derek shrugged, expression flat but a glint of mischief in his eyes. He wrapped a bulky arm around Stiles and pulled him closer still, holding him there as he shoveled food into his mouth.

A tall, Asian man that looked like he should be a fitness model appeared next to the table, each arm clutching a squirming baby. “You’re up,” he told Laura as he handed her the children one at a time. She kissed the first before passing it off to Cora, took the second one and leaned up to accept a quick kiss from her mate who dropped down next to her at the table and began to demolish the plate of food Laura passed him with an exhausted grunt.

“This is Ron,” Laura nudged the man’s shoulder and he paused just long enough to nod at Stiles. “And these two little peanuts are Livy and Dev.”

“Aren’t you afraid she might try to eat the baby?” Stiles raised an eyebrow at Cora, who turned the infant in her lap and used its chubby little arms to give him an Italian Salute.

“HA,” Laura barked, shifting a grabby Dev to her other side. “You are gonna have your hands full with this pack, Der. And he hasn’t even met Erica yet.”

That actually gave him pause. “How long do you think I could stall that?” Derek put down his fork to pinch the bridge of his nose.

oOo

As lunch wound down, Stiles watched as the pack moved in unconscious unison to clear everything away, a small group of them already talking about dinner as they headed to the kitchen to get started. Stiles tried get up to help, but Derek tugged him back down and nodded at Cora. She sighed with as much dramatic irritation as she could, then rose to gather up the plates of her Alpha and his mate. Other wolves trickled over, too, offering coffee, water, desert.

“Perks,” Derek shrugged when Stiles turned a stunned expression on him.

“Can I get her to do my laundry?” He asked as Cora bussed away the next round of glasses and plates.

“You could try, but you might wind up with claw marks in everything you own. Come on, want to show you something.”

Things were much more peaceful in the main house with everyone fed and scattered. Stiles followed Derek upstairs to a familiar door. The room, however, was almost unrecognizable. None of the old, clawed up furniture remained. The walls had been plastered over and painted a soft white, the floors totally redon in warm gold wood. A huge bed with grey and tan linens dominated one side of the bedroom, the other side outfitted with a fireplace, a small white sofa and thick sheepskin rugs. Everything was bright and clean and inviting looking and Stiles could hardly believe this was the same space where he’d become Derek’s mate in a dirty nest of his own clothes.

“You should get your own house flipping show, I can’t believe how fast you got all this done.”

“You like it?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest, looking around at his handiwork as if still unsatisfied. “It’s for you, you know. I mean….I had this whole place fixed up so it would be ready for you.” From the drawer of a bedside table, Derek fished something out, walking over to Stiles and offering it up in the palm of his hand.

A house key. Tied in a little red bow.

“I’m not asking you to move in right now. Although, if you wanted to I’d be—I want you to move in. Someday, after college, next week….whenever you’re ready. Or never, if that’s not what you want, but I want you to have a home here. I want to _be_ your home, like you’re already mine.”

Stiles squeezed the key in his hand, the teeth biting into his palm and chasing some of the burn out of his eyes. Wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, Stiles stood on his tip toes and kissed the wolf for all he was worth, groaning into it when it immediately turned filthy.

“One question,” He panted as he pulled away, lips red-wet and cheeks flushed a high pink. “Will you be insulted if I put this on a Wolverine keychain?”

Derek growled playfully as he hauled Stiles up by the hips, “I’m _much_ bigger than Wolverine.”

Stiles laughs as he wraps himself around Derek’s towering bulk, “Yeah you are. And I love you just a little more because you know that.”

He yelled happily when they bounced onto the bed, Derek’s huge body caging him in. “You love me?” Looking down at Stiles with the edge of a smile curling his lips. His fingers were too fast to counter as they unbuttoned Stiles shirt and pants, shoving off the fabric and tossing everything over the side of the bed.

“Hey! You know we can’t do this here, every wolf in northern California is downstairs!”

“Soundproofed bedroom, remember?” Derek grumbled into the skin of Stiles’ throat, already working on another purple mark. He shoved a hand under the pillow beside Stiles’ head, drawing out a bottle of lube.

“Prepared, I see.” Stiles gasped, one of Derek’s thick fingers slick and breaching him. Good Lord this guy could move fast. Two fingers, three, Stiles rocked down on Derek’s hand while biting his own lip. “They’ll smell it on me.”

“Want that,” he was already unzipping his pants, shoving them down impatiently to draw out that magnificent Alpha cock that left Stiles paralyzed with want. “Gotta get inside you right now, baby. Gonna fuck you and knot you up tight and then they’ll all know you’re my mate.”

“They already know tha- _hat_!” Stiles stuttered as Derek didn’t waste a second hiking up his leg and shoving inside in one long push.

“There we go,” Derek moaned. And fuck he sounded as desperate as he looked. “Always want you like this, missed you so much.”

“Missed you, too.” Was the last thing Stiles managed to say before Derek let go, holding Stiles down and ramming into him in heavy, possessive strokes. His eyes flared red, fangs peeking out and retreating more than once. Stiles really, really hoped Derek was right about the soundproofed walls because there was no way he could stay quiet as Derek did his best to fuck him into a coma. He could barely get any leverage, forced to hold onto what he could as Derek pounded into his willing body, snarling a litany of _mate_ and _mine_ over and over with every thrust. The knot began to catch, the two of them so close and needing it, needing some confirmation that the distance was closed, that they were unquestionably joined and that the days apart were finally over.

“Take it,” Derek all but roared. “Take my knot and _come_.” He shoved in one more time, the flared girth stretching Stiles open before slotting into place snugly inside him. And as if his body knew no other way to react than to comply, Stiles came screaming, convulsing and sweating as Derek drew his own orgasm out with rough little thrusts of his hips. Stiles shuddered from head to toe, limp limbs splaying out as Derek sat back on his heels, dragging Stiles hips with him to rest in his lap.

“What are you doing?” Stiles slurred, bleary eyed at Derek as the man stared down at their laps with laser guided focus.

“I want to watch you speared on my knot.” Holding Stiles’ hips in both hands he ground deeper inside, groaning when it pulled out another jet of come. “You look perfect like this.”

“You’re such a caveman,” Stiles laughed, groaning when it tugged deliciously where they were joined. He stretched out, getting comfortable, when he noticed something red peeking from under one of the pillows. “What’s this?”

“Wait- “ Derek started, then groaned as another tiny orgasm hit him. Stiles pulled at the bit of fabric, his red hoodie- his completely trashed, clawed up, filthy red hoodie- unfurled across the bed.

“Oh, so you’re a _sentimental_ caveman!” Stiles teased. “But seriously, we need to burn this thing.”

“Don’t want to…it….”Derek Hale blushing while balls deep in Stiles’ ass was a kind of adorable Stiles didn’t know existed. “It smells like you. Like us.”

“Ok, then how about we wash it at least, and then I can wear it while you chase me around the room and pin me down and make it smell like us all over again?”

Derek’s eyes flared red, his voice an octave lower and deadly serious, “Yes.”

“Well ok then,” Stiles licked his lips and tugged his mate down on top of him. This man was his mate. It still didn’t even seem possible that he could be so lucky. He kissed the sharp line of both Derek’s cheeks, suddenly ferociously determined never to let anything hurt this man again. “Hey, I wasn’t joking before. I really do love you, my big bad wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for riding this out with me! And thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos! It really is such a privilege and I appreciate the hell out of every one of you.


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